


Tell The Devil I Don't Want His Warmth Anymore

by ghostnovelist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Mating (Supernatural), Angel Vessel Dean Winchester, Angel Wings, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Angelic Grace-Powered Orgasms (Supernatural), Bilingual Character(s), Body Horror, Body Worship, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Nightmares (Supernatural), Castiel Has PTSD (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Character Development, Cock Warmer Dean Winchester, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming In Pants, Courting Rituals, Crying, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Dean Winchester Has a Daddy Kink, Dean Winchester With Angelic Grace, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), F/M, Falling In Love, Feminization, Forced Incest, Implied Mpreg, Interspecies Relationship(s), Jealousy, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Masochist Dean Winchester, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panty Kink, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Praise Kink, Protective Dean Winchester, Sadist Castiel, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sam Winchester Has Magic, Selectively Mute Castiel (Supernatural), Spanking, Tags Contain Spoilers, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostnovelist/pseuds/ghostnovelist
Summary: After a devastating break-up and left with his powers on a rampage, Dean is called by his brother, who he hasn't spoken to in five years, to be there for his wedding. Dean, grateful for the distraction but indifferent towards his brother, packs his few items and drives to a small town called Poughkeepsie Oppidum.There, Dean meets a quiet Angel named Castiel that everyone in town is able to talk to, except Dean. After a bad nightmare that leaves Dean unable to sleep, he ends up spending time with the Angel, who has more secrets then Dean might be able to handle.-(a story about self discovery, insecurities, and sex.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Past Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester - Relationship, past Castiel/Lucifer - Relationship, past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester - Relationship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 151





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a call from his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm, I hope you guys like this first chapter. Next chapter will hopefully be up later today or Friday.

The whispers are always loud at night. They drown out the chirping of crickets, hoots of owls, and the low meows of street cats. The pressure of them makes a pain radiate down his body to the point where he can feel it in his fingertips and toes, his throat closes up in a way that feels like his esophagus and trachea are tied together in knots. Then there's a pit, a black hole that swirls in the bottom of his stomach like maggots, bacterial worms, are _eating_ him from the inside. 

Dean shifts, the shuffle of his boxers against cheap sheets is loud enough to make his ears twitch in discomfort, his shoulder makes a cracking sound from where it's pressed between the mattress and the weight of his body. His eyes burn from being open so long and he can feel the bags under them each time he blinks. The moonlight that shines through thin curtains hypnotizes Dean. He can't explain it. His ears twitch once more as the voices get louder. Angels without vessels begging for his body to wear as a meat suit. A groan bubbles out of his throat, then a dry sob, as he curls into himself. There's a rhythmic pounding in his brain that reminds him of a poorly constructed techno song. 

A cold sweat pools in awkward parts of his body like between his squished thighs, his ass crack, and underneath his balls. His thighs make a sicking, sticky sound when he separates them, and in the distance, somewhere in a hole in his mind, he hears a laugh. It reminds him of _her,_ of _them._ A crack appears on the window and Dean sucks in a sharp breath. It makes him cough and his bottom lip tremble when drool and foamy spit decorate his chin. He's dehydrated. But his body is too heavy to get up, too warm. 

His eyes are droopy, heavy like anvils, and he lets them slide closed when he can no longer hear the incessant begging in his brain. He feels a hot hand on his lower back yet still shivers, makes a pathetic noise in the back of his throat which the hand moves up to and squeezes. It's only then he realizes that nobody's supposed to be here. Dean jerks upright, his head bangs against the wall which makes his vision spot, and his hands grips the sheets by his hips. The phantom hand disappears, but not before tracing the mark on his left deltoid. Dean's throat works, he runs a tired hand down his face. 

Something tugs at his belly-button; a longing sense of guilt, shame, and disgust. Pieces he can't really put together but compliment each other in a sadistic way that plays with his heart. He hooks a finger through a thick, black cord that hangs on his neck. The brass between his pecs is oddly cold yet comforting; it reminds him of Sam, w _ho left,_ a nostalgic part of his mind says. A part he wishes he could bury. His phone rings, a jarring ringtone that he doesn't recognize because nobody calls him. Nobody is _supposed_ to call him. Hard buzzzing against the wood nightstand makes Dean grind his teeth together and snatch it from its place. The vibrations he can feel in his heart.

He thumbs the answer button, eyes too blurry to look at the zip code, and brings it up to his ear. 

"Winchester." but his voice is rough, dry, and he hasn't talked in a week which makes it sound like he's saying, "Win'ester." 

The voice on the other line inhales sharply.

_"Dean?"_

He hangs up. 

_Sam?,_ he should have said. But that's insane, Sam left. He left _Dean_ and kept secrets with a man they both hated. A hysterical laugh escapes him which turns into a cry and he buries his hands in his hair. There's vomit resting in the back of his mouth. He's spinning, chest collapsing in on itself and caving on his brittle heart. 

The phone rings again. He licks his lips, tongue tasting salty tears and snot, then thumbs at the device again. Puts it on speaker so he can't throw it across the room if the noise is too loud in his ear. 

_"Please don't hang up!"_ the voice blurts as soon as the call connects. Dean stares at it; knees pulled up to his chest and arms looped around his ankles which can't be comfortable for anyone who's looking. He doesn't think he could move his hands if he wanted to. 

"Who are you?" he whispers into the darkness. He sounds weak, scared and flinches at the imaginary hand that raises to strike him. Something in the corner moves, Dean hopes it's the trick of the light even when there isn't any. 

_"It's, uh–shit,"_ a nervous chuckle, _"It's Sam."_

Dean looks at the phone like he can see through it. 

"Oh," because what the fuck else is he supposed to say?

_"I'm getting married."_

And, shit. What the _fuck else_ is he supposed to say?

_"I want you there."_

"Why?" 

_"I–"_

"How the hell did you even get this number?" he hisses. The crack in the window lengthens.

_"I used my magic, I–Dean, I want you to be there."_ there's a hushed whisper coming from someone else that Dean has to strain to hear. 

_"Maybe this is too much for him, hun. You haven't talked to him in five years,"_ a male whispers. Dean doesn't bat an eye but the owl that sits on a tree branch in front of the window does. He wonders when it got there. 

"Could'a told me issa guy you're marrying," he says (slurs) before he can stop it then speaks again because he can't find his fucking filter, "But I guess you always kept secrets from me, huh _Sammy._ Like father, like son." his hand is shaky when he presses down on the end call button. He watches the screen go black before it light again, this time with a message. 

_(+1) 000-000-0000_

_I'm sorry, Dee. Here's the address if you still want to come. Poughkeepsie Oppidum, Québec, Canada. It's a fairly small town, you can't miss it. Go to The Roadhouse if you decide to come. I hope you do._

Dean falls back onto his bed and pulls the pillow behind his head over his face, then screams. 

The window finally breaks.


	2. Welcome To Poughkeepsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two brothers with an unstable past and a weird hotel owner all walk into a bar right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Dean with longish hair and for visual pleasure, here is an amazing fanart that represents what he looks like in the story. Also! Sam and Dean are born Canadian, I don't believe I was ever going to specify that so, just so ya know!
> 
> [ he looks like he needs a hug ](https://www.deviantart.com/petiteallemande/art/Dean-Winchester-Detail-583001461)

Dean's drowning when he wakes up; throat dry like he's swallowed gravel, nose clogged with snot, and eyes crusted over. There's a hole in his chest that's being weighed down by an anchor that won't move. Dean sits up, huffing when his back hits the headboard, and paws blindly for his phone. 

_(+1) 000-000-0000_

_I'm sorry, Dee. Here's the address if you still want to come. Poughkeepsie Oppidum, Québec, Canada. It's a fairly small town, you can't miss it. Go to The Roadhouse if you decide to come. I hope you do._

Dean doesn't know how but the text is mocking him. Its black text morphs into unintelligible letters that he can't decipher even though he knows over ten languages, ancient and new. He slides the phone open to text, the blinking bar wins at their staring competition before he gathers what little courage he has to send something. 

_< < there a hotel? _

He grimaces at it, the words seem like he didn't type them. Grunting, Dean walks into the bathroom to shower. The water is cold, it makes his cock shrivel and nipples hard but grounds him enough so he feels like a person. Brown and red mix with clear going down the drain but he doesn't feel a speck cleaner. 

The voices are quiet in the mornings which he's grateful for. They're probably off possessing some other poor schmuck that can barely give consent. Or maybe they know he's more vulnerable at night. Dean doesn't really give a shit. 

Dean's shivering when he gets out and brushes his teeth. He towels off, noticing bruises he didn't before, before putting on a grey henley and worn jeans. By the time he's packed his few belongings, wrote the motel an apology for their window, and shoved them in the back of his Impala, he has a new message. 

_> > It's called Novak Hotel and Spa. I'm glad you're coming. _

Dean glares at it. This person doesn't know shit about him, he could just be _asking._ He throws the phone down onto the passenger seat before tapping Baby's deck twice and driving. 

It's not a long drive; a little over two hours to Québec since he was already in Montreal. The weather is warm enough outside to the point where he can see flowers, ones he didn't even know existed, bloom and trees turn a healthy green. There's snow piles in odd places and oddly stationed Tim Hortons, he wonders when's the last time he had coffee or something to eat. (He stops for a weirdly fancy doughnut and a coffee.) 

The town is a few miles outside of Ottawa, tucked between tall, rocky mountains that remind him of Canadian Rockies, and towering green and yellow trees. Dean gets a whiff of fresh mountain air, he feels nauseous and relieved at the same time. It gets darker as he drives, stars are able to shine as he drives further away from air pollution. His lungs feel lighter. 

There's a wood sign with its legs fused into a mountain that has bolded green letters engraved into it. 

_** Poughkeepsie Oppidum  ** _

_** As Rare As A Leviathan's Blossom  ** _

_** Come For The Spa, Stay For The Community!  ** _

_** Population: 2,005 ** _

There's moss growing along the edges, some might consider it beautiful while Dean's lip curls downward. It's more alive then he is. In the distance, he can see people walking around, some with their wings spread and others who have their familiars. It looks like a fairy-tale threw up, just without the medieval setting.

He edges Baby into town slowly, follows a smooth, paved road while people are looking at him, not judging, but curious. Dean can't tell the difference. His skin prickles. 

The hotel is easy to find; its entrance has a lit up arch that connects to a gushing fountain. There's a tall building on the right side of it with big windows and blacked out curtains, the balcony's are lined white and have flowers dangling on the edge. The building on the left is shorter but still has him feeling like he can't afford to look at it. Windows are there but only enough so he can see a darkened pool.

_Novak Hotel & Spa_

Is what it says underneath the arch on a white wall. Dean touches his the mark underneath his long sleeve absently. 

A valet, one who looks too eager to do his job, bounds over to him, peering eagerly into his window. 'Garth', his name tag reads. Dean reaches in the back to grab his duffel then shuffles out of the car. He feels uncomfortable giving a stranger the keys to his forever home but his body is getting that weighted feeling again and he wants to crawl into bed. 

"Thanks." 

Garth looks oddly touched and he places a hand over his heart. 

The reception is just as fancy as the buildings. A plush white carpet covers the area, a fireplace runs in the corner with two chairs on either side of it and a wood coffee table with glass in the middle. Behind the front desk, which is long and has a grey, wood accent with three computers, (why three?), is a glowing set of Angel wings. 

Hm, Dean thinks, that's not tacky. 

"Hi! Bonjour! Are you ready to check in?" the receptionist, who appeared out of no where by the way, smiles at him. She has a knowing glint in her eyes. Dean clenches his bag self consciously. There's a kiss of a whisper by his ear. It's starting again.

"Uh, yeah." 

The redhead smiles, "Would you like a tour?" 

A hand slides up his shirt and rests on his lower back. His eye twitches but he smiles, a fake, practiced one and, because he's a masochist, says "Sure,"

Charlie's a good tour guide. She shows him the in-house dining, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, then to the spa aspect of the joint. They travel through the unisex change rooms, mud, steam, and massage rooms. Dean feels like he's in a fun house. He's breaking out into a cold sweat again and the room sways with him. He forgot he's running on coffee and heated Latin American sweet milk. 

The pool is last, Dean doesn't know how that happened when it's the length of the room, lights flicker on automatically from the sides of the pool. Dean notices a hot tub in one of the corners. A shadow moves making the steam shift and blue eyes pin him down. Angel. Seraph, maybe? 

"Castiel, that you?" Charlie claps her hands, this time lights above them turn on and Dean can see the figure. Well, sort've. Only the persons eyes and damp hair is visible, the rest submerged into water. Dean sees something shine from behind the stranger's back.

"This is Castiel, owner of the hotel. Castiel, this is a new guest." Castiel looks up and down Dean's body before his gaze goes back to Charlie, who looks upset. Dean's cheeks get hot, maybe it's the steam. 

"Sir, if you would follow me to your room." her lips are curled into a frown and the blue eyes look away. Why does it feel like he missed something? 

Charlie was still bubbly during Dean's payment and walk to his room but her tone was off, secretive which he didn't have time to look into when something clenched in his chest.

His hotel room is almost nicer than the lobby. Red carpet lays underneath his bed, which looks softer than the backseat of Baby, he's sad to admit, and there's a dark wood accent to everything. The bathroom walls are glass, the shower has a lengthy mirror on the inside of it and there's even the fancy shampoo and conditioner. He feels too poor for the place. 

Setting the duffel bag into one of the red chairs set off to the side, Dean types out a message. 

_< < hotel is nice._

He doesn't get a chance to sit down before it buzzes. 

_> > You're here! I can't wait to see you! The Roadhouse is just a walk from the hotel, see you there at 2? _

_< < sure. _

Dean toes off his boots before falling into the bed. Cushions barricade his face and his body sinks into the soft mattress. He doesn't manage to take off his clothes before being plunged into unforgiving darkness. 

* * *

_"Dean. Don't be scared." she whispers. Her hair fans his face as he struggles to gasp for air. The nails on her fingers scrape down his sides leaving red lines in their wake. He imagines he's red all over. From blood and lack of oxygen. He's scared, been that way since he came out of Mary Winchester's fucking womb, how can he not be when he's dying._

_"This way, we can be together for real this time." she walks past, smelling of lavender and witch hazel even with his blood on her hands, boobs, and vagina. They're both naked, Dean realizes, he doesn't know when she took of their clothes. He doesn't know when she came_ back. _She chants something; the sounds are muffled to his ears._

_"Don't act like you don't like it. You love me, Dean. Don't you?"_

_Yes. Yes, he does. Unapologetically and unconditionally. His dick is hard, leaking like a faucet and his thighs are trembling. Probably from the needles he now feels. The pain is euphoric, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he's having an orgasm while they literal life is being sucked out of him._

_"Lisa," he gasps, tries to and hopes he got it out. "Lisa!" he struggles against the bounds that tie him to the chair. She smiles, bright and happy like she's not doing anything wrong even while she has a angel blade in her hands._

_"I love you, Dean."_

* * *

Dean jolts, dry heaves, and sobs all at the same time. The lights in his room are flickering and the TV mounted on the wall is glitching so much to the point where it shuts off. Somehow it turns on again. It hurts; his heart, body, his god damn _soul._

A whisper starts at his right ear and ends at his left, begging, wanting to take him. Hands crawl up, they cup his thighs, grip his hair, and spread him like a mat. His shirt is damp with sweat, jeans uncomfortably stuck to his legs. Shit. _Shit._ Dean rolls off the bed, landing on the floor and the shadows let him. 

He shucks off his wet clothes then army crawls to the bathroom. Dean sits on the shower floor as cold water pours over him. He stinks of piss and sweat. Acid bubbles in his stomach threaten to leave his mouth. He runs his hands down his thighs, little holes decorate the pale flesh; he never healed them after she left. He digs his nails into the flesh, why does everyone leave?

Slowly but surely, Dean gathers soap in his hands and lathers himself. His hands are rough against his skin; calloused since he could hold a car part. He shies away from them, wrinkling his nose in pain. The soap goes back on its porcelain stand and Dean turns the water off without touching the handle. When he gets out, he swishes mouth wash in his mouth, mind too fuzzy to remember where he put his toothbrush. 

Getting dressed shouldn't be as anxiety inducing as it is. His legs are shaking as he pulls on his pants and he misses his arm sleeve twice, tears well up in his eyes. A few light bulbs break and his TV develops a new crack. Dean exhales shakily and puts his hand through the leather sleeve. It's around one thirty when he collects enough of his bearings to go downstairs. 

"Dean!" Charlie waves at him, no longer behind the front desk but lounging on one of the many couches that the eating room has. Next to her is burly man with kind eyes who introduces himself as Benny, to which Charlie pokes at his mouth and shouts, "Vampire!"

"Are you going to eat with us, brother?" the title makes him warm. Dean shakes his head, "Gonna head to The Roadhouse." he jerks his thumb to the doors and Charlie jumps up, dragging Benny with her.

"We'll come with." 

Dean shoves his hands in his pocket and bites back a sigh. 

Charlie's a rambler, Dean has come to realize, while Benny mostly hums and comments offhandedly. She asks him questions that boarder on personal but he can't find it in him to deny her any answers.

"So, why'd you come to The Roadhouse? No judgement here, the food's great." Charlie asks as they stop in front of the wood doors. 

"Visiting someone." he mumbles, condensation starts to dampen the back of his neck. Charlie hugs his torso, it's too intimate and he jerks backward. A reflex from being hit one too many times.

"I hope you can forgive Sam." she whispers. Benny tugs on Charlie's sleeve a few times before she lets go. Dean pats her shoulder, an awkward movement but they both smile anyway. 

Small town, word goes around, Dean shouldn't be surprised. 

They wave him goodbye and Dean stands alone in front of the doors. He takes a deep breath, counts to three in his head, then walks in. 

It's quiet but full at the same time. Patrons sit at the bar and drink or mingle, someone's asleep at the pool table, and Dean feels like fainting. Classical rock plays from the speakers, some of which Dean can name off the top of his head, it loosens him some. He wrings his hands in his pockets as he continues to walk. 

"Dean?" 

Tall. Long limbs. Hair that would put Taylor Dayne's to shame. And puppy dog eyes anywhere that Dean would know anywhere. 

"Hey, Sammy." 

Arms envelope his body and he hears tears hit the leather of his jacket. He lets out a wet chuckle, "C'mon. No chick flick moments." he jokes like they haven't seen each other in five weeks when in reality it's been five _years._

Sam pulls back, bottom lip wobbly and nods. They walk to a secluded booth in the back and Dean notices the other person who looks just as awkward as he feels; the guy has hair long like Sam's, brown eyes, and thin lips. Archangel, Dean hums. 

Sam clears his throat. "Are you hungry? Want a beer or something?" 

"I'm good, thanks." he says, like a fucking liar. The person beside Sam nudges him slightly. Sam sits up straight and grins, "Uh, Dean, this is my fiancée, Gabriel. Gabriel this is my brother, Dean." 

Dean looks between the two. "Marriage, huh?" 

"Sam really wants you to be there." Gabriel blurts, his cheeks tint red but he looks up at Dean determinedly. Dean licks his lips, a hand slithers up his shoulder and he flinches under it. The two share curious looks. 

"He called me outta the blue after how many years, Sammy?" he bites, ears twitching when something breaks in the distance. He needs to breathe. 

"Dean–" 

"You fuckin' _left._ I was so _alone_ and scared and you left me there to–" blood drips on the table from Dean digging his nails into his palms. He doesn't remember taking them out of his pockets. 

"I thought you would understand–" 

"You left me there to die! How the _fuck_ am I supposed to understand that!" 

Breathe. Breathe, someone whispers. He can hear screams behind the pumping blood in his ears and his hands feel like they're on fire. His lungs aren't bring filled fast enough and he can taste blood on his tongue. 

He sees stormy blue eyes and feels a searing pain on his left arm before passing out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that green and blue thing was h a r d, im not that advanced with HTML and I was v confused on how to do it for a while. ahhh, I hope you guys like this chapter! this chapter was long as frick man. 
> 
> (also, the doughnut is the Dulce de Leche one. It's soooooo good)


	3. There Is A God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy and bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags added: body horror, body worship.

Dean can't feel his heart. 

At first he thinks maybe he has to wait until his senses catch up but no; usually it's there when he's fucked up at some party beating hard and fast against his rib-cage because he's pumped on adrenaline or when he's smoking a bowl on top of his Impala. It becomes a soft, slowed rhythm that lulls him to sleep underneath the starts. He presses his ear harder into the plush cushion beneath his head, searching for that repetitive _'buh-bump, buh-bump, buh-bump.'_

Nothing happens. 

Hot tears slip from behind his closed eyes, it's funny how broken he's become, how much of a mistake he is. Dean could make a show about it, it'll be called _'The Fuck-Up's Of Dean Winchester.'_ Dean sniffles, funny right? He moves to a seated position against the headboard, sheets pool at his naked waist (where is his shirt?). There's a separated pair of handcuffs on his wrists that are glowing a dim blue, _spiritus possessor_ is etched onto the curve on them. What happened to him? Dean blinks, slow and lazy, and the shadows, his only friends, merge with corporeal objects. 

Dean's head lolls to the side, orange sunlight peaks through the curtains allowing him to see dust particles float aimlessly in the air. Dean turns his head and clicks the inside of his cheek, he wants float in the air. He wants to be nothing because he is nothing. Dean lets his eyes scan over the room.

There's a chair pushed next his bed, a beige trench coat hung over the body, and a open book lies next to the nightstand table, a sticky note hangs from its side. Curious, Dean leans over to read it. 

_sex is not about love_

_it is about pleasure and_

_if you're lucky enough_

_you'll find love in the process._

_\- Kirti Jain._

His eyes flicker to the scribble on the note. 

_I wonder if he's found love in sex with the countless women he's fucked, maybe I could show him while he sobs on my cock._

Dean's eyebrows raise to his hairline and his cheeks heat, who the fuck says that shit? Rolling his eyes, Dean sinks down until he head rests on the top of the headboard. He doesn't think that love is meant for him, it's cruel and mean and leaves him hurt or dying or out of control, even if he only has loved three people. His life can't accept it, nobody would want to squeeze into the hard place that is his trauma and issues. A hand gently runs it's thumb over his bottom lip. Touch-starved, Dean leans into it and almost says yes. 

"That wouldn't be a good idea, boy." Dean jerks at the voice, how could he not notice the door open? The woman who spoke enters the room with Castiel in tow. Dean bites back a noise of surprise when Castiel puts on the trench coat and picks up the book. The Angel pulls back the chair a little for the woman to sit on then leans against the wall behind her. 

Dean raises the sheets to cover his chest, suddenly insecure.

"You grew into such a handsome boy, you were always the funny looking one." she shakes her head fondly. Should Dean feel offended? Because he is.

"Do I know you?" 

"Of course John didn't tell me about you. I'm Missouri, I was friends with your father."

"Didn't know John had friends."

Missouri makes a small humming noise, "He came in for a reading when your mother left." 

Dean remembers Mary with her bags sneaking out of the house, her glare when he called out to her. Dean looks down, maybe he's the reason everyone leaves. 

"It's not your fault, Dean." She leans over to pat his thigh. Dean keeps his mouth shut. 

"The cuffs on your wrists help keep your grace,–" _Michael's_ grace, Dean thinks bitterly. "At bay. The only witch in this town who can unlock them is Rowena but she won't do it until you are better mentally, emotionally, and physically." 

"How 'm I supposed to do that?" Dean pushes back his hair as he looks up. 

"Rowena said she would teach you how to control your powers and Donna has a open spot for therapy." 

"I can't–" his mouth clamps shut when Missouri glares are him. 

"Can't what? Can't get yourself better? You're gonna go back out there? Drink yourself silly, drive until you blackout, not eat, and get into fights until you're beaten black and blue? Until you go to some motel and try to kill yourself again?" 

Dean clenches his jaw. Missouri sighs. "At The Roadhouse when you got angry, the whole town went into chaos. Your pain radiates, Dean. Yes, things are repaired and it's calmed down some but some people were hurt, their children scared. I see the pain you carry on your shoulders, Dean. I feel the trauma and agony that so many people have put you through," she sets a white business card on the bed. "I know you'll make the choice that helps you." 

No wrong or right choice, simply Dean's. His consent to do whatever, it feels weird to have that option for once. 

"I'll think about it." he whispers, giving her a tense smile. She pats his thigh again, but this time she leans close and whispers, "Castiel is more talkative at night." Dean furrows his brows in confusion but she just smiles and leaves with the Angel. 

Dean sighs and picks up the card. 

**Sugar Powder Therapy.**

**Accepting Of All Supernatural Beings.**

**Donna Hanscom**

**Call (+1) 42-42-564 to make an appointment.**

This is his rock bottom, isn't it? The dark feeling rumbling inside him, a sense of dissociation that he's always had, hurting people even when he promised himself not to. He can't even look his brother, the one he _raised_ , in the eyes without wanting to throw up or cry or slit his wrists even though he can't die that way. Maybe he needs this, deserves it after all the shit he's been put through. He's not trying to satisfy John, Lisa, Cassie, or even Sam. He has to do this for himself. He needs to. 

Dean pats down the bed until he finds the lump of his phone. He hesitates, scared. Acid rests just behind his uvula. 

A tear hits the screen when he presses the first number. 

* * *

Dean's appointment doesn't happen until two days later. Those two days make him antsy. On the first day, Charlie, Benny, and even Garth came up at different times to share stories about themselves while Dean listened. Midday, Castiel came up. He gave Dean liquids, things like soup or porridge, and made sure he drank water, all while not speaking. He stays in Dean's room the rest of the day and whenever Dean was watching some soap opera on the television or reading doujinshi that Charlie sent him on his phone, he noticed Castiel staring. It made Dean's chest spasm and his cheeks heat, not that Castiel mentioned it.

The second day, Dean stepped out the hotel room. Fresh air made him a little light headed and nauseous but he pushed past it. He went to The Roadhouse and Ellen, the owner, is understanding of his problem. She let Dean work on the circuit repairs and he made small talk with her daughter, Jo. Sam popped up sometimes, of course he would, and Dean always managed to give him a small smile or a nod which his brother happily returned. 

He got a better look around town, walked alone aside from the hands and shadows. By the time he made it back to the hotel his calves itched and he knew of a secluded area, deep within the trees that surround the place, that he can sit and see sun set over water. 

Now, Dean is sat anxiously in the therapist's office on an unfairly comfy couch, bouncing his leg. He could leave, get in his Impala and get the hell out of dodge. And then what? Live his life knowing he could've saved his relationship with Sam and instead fucked of out of town like Mary? Shit. Dean put his hands in his head. 

"Sorry I'm late! Gabriel baked powdered doughnuts and those things go fast!" a lady with a thick accent, that was definitely not Canadian, walks into the room with a box of doughnuts, she uses her foot to close the door. She opens the box with a smile, "Want one?" 

Dean reaches then stops short, the woman's blonde pony tail swayed as she shook her head. "Nope. You reached, now you gotta go for it, it's okay." she nods her head towards the box and Dean pulls one out. He toys with the powder before eating it. 

"I'm Donna Hanscom. It's nice to meet you, Dean. I have heard nothing but kind words from everyone." Donna sets the box on the table between then sits down on a big, pale blue chair in front of Dean. She pulls a notepad from the second layer of the table. 

"I write the things you say on this here notepad so I can create your assessments. Assessments are just little questions that I ask and you answer but let's not worry 'bout that right now. Can you tell me your level of distress onna scale from one to ten?"

Dean licks the powder off his lips and chuckles nervously, "A ten."

Donna smiles sympathetically. 

"It always is on the first day but if it hurts that means you're working towards feelin' better. Your therapy is cognitive processing therapy which is also known as trauma therapy. We use different methods to help you get comfortable with what happened, whatever that may be. It's not a permanent solution that will make you forget all your problems, it's so you can feel comfortable talking about what happened and so your level of distress is down to at least a four,"

Dean nods slowly. 

"You are in control of everything that happens here. If you're uncomfortable with anything we can stop, we can try something different, bud." 

"Okay," 

"I've had a lot of patients run away whenever they have to work on their trauma narrative, their telling of what happened, so I want you to make a want, a promise to yourself, you don't have to tell me what it is, that will help you stay." 

Dean shrugs, "I don't know." 

"It can be anything, something small like when I get through it I'll get myself a cheeseburger with extra cheese or something." 

Dean bites his lip. "I, uh, I want to be at Sam's wedding. I want to see him happy." 

"Okay, that's a want for him. We need one for _you."_ Donna nods encouragingly. 

Tears of frustration rim Dean's eyelids and he runs a hand through his hair, "I want to be able to look in the mirror and not hate what I see. I want to–fuck, I don't know." 

"That's okay. You want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror, use that. Everyday when you get that fear of coming back, use that. Some days it might not work and that's okay." 

Dean sniffles. 

Donna settles in her chair then, with a firm nod, clicks her pen. 

"Do you want to tell me about your childhood?" 

* * *

Dean needs a cigarette or a joint or something. He kicks off his shoes at the door. He feels, heavy; not how he is when he stays in bed all day but like he's just realizing how much he's been dealing with. 

Even as a child, when Mary left and John became a drunk, he had to be Sam's mom and dad. He had to skip meals and stay up until John came home stumbling drunk so he could put him to bed. So why did they do that to him? He doesn't get it, he doesn't think he ever will. He thinks about Sam and him engraving their initials into the Impala, was it fake? Did Sam already know? 

Dean falls down on the bed with a grunt. With his eyes closed, Dean rolls until he rests on his stomach with his hands underneath the pillow. Exhausted from therapy, Dean lets sleep take him. 

_Dean jerks, his body yanked back against the bed against the restraints. His vision is blurry as he tries to blink his eyes open. Sam, Sam, where is he?_

_"My true vessel." John, not John?, mummers before letting out a sigh, "I had trouble getting to you Dean. There were some...complications." the bed dips with added weight._

_Dean tugs against the rope binding him to the bed, thick twine rubs deep into his skin, the scratches burn and blood rushes to the surface._

_"S-am," he gasps out and John,_ Michael, _shushes_ _him. "That boy," he sucks his teeth, shaking his head. "Lucifer's vessel, the boy with magic. He left you here, Dean, sorry to say."_

_"No," Dean growls, wetness sliding down to his temples. "Sam would never l-leave." Right?_

_"Well, I did make him and insty, bitsy promise but let's not get into the details right now." a hand stroked his neck lightly. "When my grace enters you, it will be_ euphoric. _"_

_"Don't you need my consent, bag of dicks."_

_Micheal chuckles, dark and scary sounding as he breathes in Dean's neck. "Didn't that girl, oh what's her name, Cassie appear in your dreams one night? I remember hearing a lot of yeses that day."_

_"No,"_

_That's not right, that couldn't be–Dean chokes on a sob and jolts weakly._

_"Yes." Micheal whispers. "Be a good boy now, huh?" the Archangel cups Dean's mouth open and leans over him._

_A white, blueish light dances between their mouths._

_Then a searing pain and Dean stops breathing._

* * *

Dean gulps for breath as his body lurches up from the bed. His body hurts with new aches and he puts head in his hands as takes a couple of steadying breathes. The handcuffs glow a little brighter and emit a low humming sound. Suddenly the room is too small and Dean needs a smoke.

Dean passes by the towering trees and sits down on the cliffside. Dean stares at the red blending with purple blending with orange reflects off the water below. It's cold, well, cool is the word he should use, wind sends a shiver through his body and makes the sweat on his body sticky. The nicotine from the cigarette helps a little. 

There's gum stuck to his shoe. It doesn't move, just stays and watches the sunset with him, Dean almost finds it comforting.

"You don't have to hide, ya know." he speaks just loud enough to the Seraph behind him. There's a small huffing sound, almost like a laugh, and Castiel comes to sit beside him. 

"It's pretty." he gestures to the descending sun then takes a drag from his almost finished cigarette. Castiel pries it from his shaking fingers and squishes it against the damp grass below them. Dean doesn't argue, he licks his lips and leans against Castiel. The two breathe in sync and watch the sun fall deeper into the water. 

"Am I gonna be broken forever?" Dean asks quietly.

Castiel leans back to cup Dean's cheek in his hands, his azure gaze fierce and swimming with affection? Adoration? As he squints down at Dean. Castiel brushes his thumb across Dean's cheekbone, once, twice before leaning forward and grazing their lips together. 

Dean's heart skips a beat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in therapy, trauma therapy. This is also fiction, in later chapters unrealistic therapy things happen, do not comment on it.


	4. And He Said He Loves All His Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crying does the soul good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning added: underage + rape/non-con  
> Tags added: Non-Consensual Incest, Past Rape/Non-con.
> 
> Take note on how Cas is spelled.

"So," Donna says conversationally, tapping her pen on the notepad. Dean raises his eyebrows, used to her tactics seeing as he's been doing this for six weeks now. She knows he's not telling her something. 

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mumbles and Donna raises her hands defensively, "That's okay!" 

They stare at each other for a minute before Dean sags against the couch.

Dean's been doing, okay. He practices controlling his grace with Rowena, who is so scary that it actually turns him on a little bit, and goes to therapy two times a week. Dean also keeps a journal to write in whenever he gets too many intrusive thoughts, and he talks to people in the town; confession night which most often turns to a drinking competition with Charlie, Jo, Garth, Benny, Ash, and sometimes Sam or Gabriel. He works on cars at a Singer's Auto Shop ran by a gruff guy named Bobby, who only calls Dean an idjit three times a day instead of four, which he counts as a win. Dean's doing better, honestly, it's just–

"Castiel kissed me a few weeks back and now he's avoiding me." Dean shrugs. And it's weird, right? Some guy who doesn't even talk to you kisses you when you feel like garbage and somehow manages to get you to have some school girl crush; it's freaky. 

"Oh, boy." 

"It wasn't really a kiss, I was sad and said something that wasn't exactly positive and he, _looked_ at me. Like, he was staring at my soul and his hand was on my cheek and he just, leaned in and brushed our lips together." Dean sighs, "After it happened, he looked scared? But its–what? Why'd you say that?" 

Donna squints her eyes, "Say what?" 

"Don't play dumb. You said 'oh, boy'." 

"Oh, I don't remember, must'a slipped my mind." 

"Donna," Dean warns and she sighs. 

"Castiel came to talk to me–" 

"And that! I've never heard him speak so what do you mean he 'talked to you'?" 

Donna sets her notepad on the coffee table and frowns. "Castiel can talk to people without having to open his mouth. It's not my business to tell you what happened or why he doesn't talk. You have to go up to him and tell him that you want to talk or that you like the kiss, it's completely up to you, but I think you both will benefit from it."

Dean turns his gaze to the window, spotting Castiel walking with Gabriel down below, Gabriel seems to be talking animatedly about something. Probably the wedding, Dean thinks. Something sad and heavy churns in his gut, he should talk to Sam. 

Castiel looks up for a second and their eyes lock. Dean's chest makes a weird spasm as he raises his hand to wave. Castiel pointedly looks away and keeps walking. Dean's heart drops into his stomach, swallowed by acid. 

"Did'ja know Angels claim their mates, most often humans, if they're inna lotta danger or close to death? It stops any kind of harm and the marks look like burns, kinda like yours." Donna comments offhandedly. 

The cogs in Dean's brain stop turning. "Huh?" 

"I remember you saying how when Michael was forcing his grace into you that you felt a searing pain and when you woke up you had that mark on your arm." 

Dean thinks about it for a moment. "Those hands and the shadows, the ones that I feel or felt and saw, could it be–was it them?" 

"Could be. Angels who are far away from their mate can use their grace to send a touch or something remotely comforting." Donna quickly adds, "Especially if they have issues with communicating." 

Dean narrows his eyes at nothing, who would want to mate _Dean?_ He's _himself._ Stitched together by abandonment issues, a shitty past, and equally shitty relationships.

"I think we should stop here, you've received and given a lotta information today. We're making progress." Donna says softly. Dean slowly gets up, mind still processing. 

"Thanks, Donna." he whispers, heading for the door.

"Oh, Dean, did you ever ask Sam what the promise Michael made him was?" 

Dean shakes his head and Donna nods, thoughtful. "We went through techniques to help you talk to him. Do you think you could try? For you?" 

"Yeah, maybe." he shrugs, sending a small smile her way before leaving the clinic. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down at the floor as he thinks.

Mates, huh? Dean can't even keep a stable relationship, how the fuck is he supposed to that shit with a _mate?_ Any angel who voluntarily claimed him must be dumb as dirt because Dean's broken, weak, any other degrading word you can find in the dictionary. Sure he's working on himself, indulging in things he was too afraid of before, but that doesn't make him any less tainted, _cursed._

Dean bumps into something firm, nothing breaks but he does let out a soft 'oofm' and staggers back a few steps.

"Shit, sorry!" Sam reaches and grips Dean's shoulder so he doesn't fall. "Are you okay?" he asks, puppy eyes widened and eyebrows frowned. Dean pats the hand on his shoulder with a tight lipped smile. There's a silence between them, neither breathe until Sam withdraws his hand and nods. He then points to the necklace around Dean's neck.

"You kept it?" he sounds surprised. 

"What's it look like, bitch,"

"Jerk." the banter is easy, _brotherly._ Dean wonders for how long he missed that. He licks his lips and asks, mumbles is more like it, "Can we talk?" because they haven't, not really. At The Roadhouse they nod to each other and Dean listens to the wedding plans without saying anything or Sam will ask how Dean is and he'll always give him the same answer: "Fine." but he's not, he's more aware of that now. 

Sam's eyebrows shoot to his hairline but he nods quickly, "Do you-we can go to my place, o-or the coffee shop, anywhere you're comfortable with."

"Your place." 

* * *

The house is nice. Looks like IKEA threw up in here but it's nice, makes Dean feel happy his brother was able to find someone to, mate with? He's not sure how Angel dating works.

Sam hands him a steaming mug of coffee which takes his gaze away from the hanging frame where it shows Sam down on one knee, at a beach, with Gabriel who has a hand over his mouth. They look happy. Dean believes that he can be like that to; happy.

"Are you uncomfortable? That I'm marrying a guy, because I'm not going to change that, I love him." Dean blinks and stares at Sam. The 'L' word, Dean's never said that to anyone before without ending up hurt. He hopes this won't end up like that. 

"I'm bisexual so..." Dean shrugs, looking down at the steam coming from his mug. The word coming out of his mouth makes him feel like he's swallowing sand. He's never confessed to it, never indulged because he didn't want to disappoint his father but Dean's safe now. Donna never fails to remind him that he can allow himself to like whoever he likes. He's _safe._ That thought never ceases to make his head spin. 

"Oh. Oh! Thanks, for not being weird about it." Sam smiles. 

"I missed you." and shit, that's not what he wanted to say. Sam's smile falters, his eyes turn sad. "I missed you too. I never left, Dean, not willingly."

Right. The promise. He can talk about it without going all Hulk.

"Michael said he made you a promise, is that-is that why you left?"

Sam bites his lip and sighs. "Michael never made me a promise, well, he did, but I think he thought I believed him."

What?

"What?" Dean sets the mug on the coffee table before he has a chance to break it. 

"Michael never, it wasn't-Jesus," Sam sits up a little straighter, "Castiel made me a promise."

 _"What?"_ he squints, glares. 

* * *

_Sam's dreaming. The edges of his vision is blurred and he's standing in front of his childhood home even though he was just at the motel with John and Dean. He takes a step forward, green grass crunches underneath his boots and the houses behind him fade into darkness when he continues walking forward._

_He stops at the front door, heart beating out of his chest, and jumps back once it opens on its own. A shudder of fear runs down his back. He remembers how fast John left this place once Mary left, how broken he got, how desperate he was to find her again._

_"That's why he said yes to Michael?"_

_Sam jumps, whips around to face curious blue eyes._

_"Angel," he breathes out, eyes wide. The Angel huffs before stepping towards Sam with a purpose. Sam is paralyzed to the ground, his training of magic never prepared him for this. What spell should he use? What spell should work?_

_"You need to listen. Your brother is in danger because of your father saying yes to Michael, Michael will take what's his. Dean is his true vessel, which I assume you know since you both have been lying to him."_

_Sam flushes in embarrassment. They'd lied to protect him, Dean would've said yes to get Mary back. They knew Dean blamed himself for Mary leaving and when she left so did the protective spells that kept Dean safe. Sam tried to replicate the spell work so Michael couldn't touch him but they were always temporary. So they lied; they told Dean that Michael only needed consent to possess Sam_ _. It was easy, Sam had magic and Dean didn't, it was always to protect Dean._

_"Stop wallowing in your doubts for a minute! Your brain is suffocating me with these thoughts. Michael possessed John, he appeared in his dreams and pretended to be Mary, I assume. Listen, you need to promise me to leave. Michael will kill you if you get in his way."_

_"I can't leave Dean there!"_

_"You will! I will take care of him, I would never let Dean get hurt! I lo–" The Angel pursed his lips, angry and pushed Sam against the wall. "I will protect him, just please, promise me you'll leave, when you get up, you will see my brother, Gabriel. Go with him. You have not word that I will protect your brother."_

_"I–"_

_"Please, Sam."_

_"Okay, yeah, okay."_

_"Thank you."_

* * *

"And then when I woke up, Gabriel was there. He told me Michael's was going to promise not to hurt me if I left silently and he did so I left but I knew Castiel was going to take care of you. Gabriel took me to this town, he took care of me and one thing led to another. I didn't see Castiel often after that but when I did," Sam shakes his head. "I never got the chance to talk to him properly. Dean you have to believe me that I would never leave you. I wanted to contact you so bad but Castiel always told me he would check on you, he would know when I could talk to you but he said you were always in pain or that you weren't physically or mental prepared. I called you without him knowing and now, here we are." 

Sam rings his hands together under Dean's silence. The older Winchester has his lips curled into a frown, and a hand on his left arm.

"C'mon, man. Say something." 

"I think," Dean starts, looking uncomfortable. "that I need time, to understand. I will always forgive you, you're my baby brother but I spent five years thinking that–I mean, I could've looked for you too but I guess I was just too hurt." 

Sam smiles sadly. "I understand, I'm sorry, I don't think I know how to make up for it. This is big and I fucked up–"

"You were a kid. You just turned twenty when all that shit went down, it's okay for you to make mistakes, just, make me do something important at your wedding, 'kay?" 

"I was actually hoping, you would be my best man."

"Son of a bitch," Dean exhales shakily and nods. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Sammy." 

"It's Sam." he bites with no heat. 

Dean squeezes his arm before blurting, "Castiel mated me," 

Sam blinks. "Oh?" 

"T-the mark, it stopped Michael from possessing me, when I woke up, John's body was on the floor. Eyes burned out and there was this pain in my arm and this handprint was there. I just–why won't he–wait. You've heard him talk?" 

"Castiel talks to everyone?" 

"No, every time I'm in the room..." Castiel stops talking.

"I think you should communicate with him. Castiel can talk through his mind or verbally, that way is just harder and he doesn't do it often." 

"I have to–" Dean gets up quickly, backs of his knees hitting the couch in his haste. Sam makes no effort to move but waves Dean off and even open the door for him. 

Dean can feel bad about not drinking the coffee later, he can feel bad about not giving Sam a hug or a fucking thank you or any of that other bullshit because he needs _Cas._ Cas who claimed him, who protected him, who wants something to do with Dean and his fucked up shit. Cas isn't Cass or Lisa or Mary or fucking John, he's—

"Cas," Dean pants. His lungs burn and he's a little sweaty from running through the forest to get here. Here being the cliff side where they kissed, where Castiel looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. 

Castiel turns around slowly, his eyes red and body shivering from the chilly air that breezes past. Dean doesn't think about why Castiel can feel the cold or why Castiel needs to eat sometimes, all he wants is to hold, to protect like Castiel did for him. 

So that's exactly what he does. 

He falls to his knees, no regards for their structure, and holds Castiel tight enough to the point where it's strangling. Dean lays them down, Castiel's face tucked into his neck, arm laid loosely around his waist, wetness seeps on his back from the wet grass but he doesn't care. How can he when he has an Angel, who doesn't talk, who doesn't even show emotion, in his arms, sobbing. 

The sound makes Dean's body tense and he holds Castiel impossibly closer. 

"I'm sorry," he doesn't know what he's apologizing for or why his eyes are wet and shit, maybe he should've graduated high school because suddenly he's gone stupid. 

"I'm so sorry, Cas. I liked the kiss, I fucking loved it and I have no idea why because we don't talk and I don't know you but you make me feel like I'm dying in the best possible way–fuck, man, I feel," tears slide down to his temple and Castiel's sobs have quieted down to small cries and sniffles.

"You make my heart hurt, it feels like someone's squeezing it to the point where it'll just p-pop. But I love it. I love–" you, he wants to say. "That it hurts. My mind gets fuzzy and there's a lump in my throat and I think I might die if I ever see your smile or hear your laugh and–" they both chuckle wetly. 

"And you're a fuckin' dick for not telling me or using your Charles Xavier bullshit to let me know you mated me." 

Castiel's nose brushes against his jaw before Castiel leans up and over him. It's a sight to see and Dean would pay millions. 

Castiel leans down, their noses bump and tears mix. It's weird, if Dean's being honest, they're crying and emotional and their fluids are mixing together but it's raw in a way he can't describe. 

He leans up a little bit. 

"Kiss me?" he mumbles against Castiel's lips. 

It starts out as a chaste kiss. One that gets Dean's heart twisted upside down and then Castiel is grinding down against him, clothed erections creating an unsatisfying rhythm that's going to male him come anyway. 

"C-Cas," tears run down freely and he chokes on every syllable that escapes him, Castiel bites and sucks harshly at his neck. It hurts, it hurts and makes him want to push Castiel away but he can't because this feeling, _fuck_ , this feeling is addictive. 

Castiel brushes their noses together before their lips attach once again, Dean sobs into the kiss, body seizing and arching off the grass. 

"D-daddy," it feels good, fuck that, it feels like Dean's in a seventh heaven. His body buzzes and Castiel gives two more aborted thrusts of his hips before he sucks in a sharp breath and Dean can feel the wetness through his jeans. Castiel gives him lazy, sloppy kisses, hugging him close. 

Dean grips the back of Castiel's trench coat and sobs harder into his shoulder. 

Maybe he's dying. He feels unusually light and empty, in a good way. His body is trembling, shaking against Castiel's own and the words won't stop flowing out of his mouth like the tears running down his face. 

"D-d-daddy, feels g-good, s'good, d-daddy," 

It's gross. He should feel gross but Castiel is making reassuring noises and stroking his hair and kissing him like he's everything and a little bit more. Dean doesn't know this type of care, this type of love that's only heard in story books. His heart twists painfully and Castiel's lips ghost against his ear. A kiss is pressed there before a whisper blesses his soul. 

"Je t'aime." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, Castiel's POV?


	5. Mechanical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel reminisces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied underage sex/grooming between an adult and child. 
> 
> Body horror + modification.
> 
> I don't know what happened the universe just decided that Castiel would be the bottom.  
> I'm not that good at writing smut.

There's something strange about how excited Castiel feels when the sun hits the trees at just the right angle; leaves turn a golden hue and the trunk showcases it's yellow highlight. It's warm, Castiel remembers; something about the sun even if it didn't touch his skin directly made him feel warm. His vessel was also smaller then. A child with pale skin and contrasting hair. 

Castiel misses it. The sun and vessel. 

Now, he's been reduced to less. No longer a creation of what used to be the highest power but a poor excuse of an Angel who pitied the wrong person. 

Would things be different? He wondered. Would his mate still want someone like him? Cursed? Marred with imperfections? Castiel would laugh if he had the energy. 

Soulmates. Two beings bound at the very core, destined to be together. It's childish, foolish even. If Father never made him the first Angel to have a human mate then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have been casted out by the others. Shunned for his ability to connect with God's favored creations. 

Dean Winchester is their name; Michael's sword. 

Castiel knew when the human first shined light onto the world, a lighter lit his heart from the inside and his grace strengthened. He has waited Eons to meet this person but he guesses he may never get the chance if Lucifer decides to keep him or hide him from the world forever. 

Angel Radio went crazy that day. Gossips about how Michael would take Dean before Castiel could claim him. If that happened then him and Lucifer would have their battle, once that was talked about for centuries. 

Father called him aside.

_"I have called upon Gabriel to protect Dean's brother. I realize what my favoritism has caused to this place. You were permanent in every world I have created and here is no different. Soon, my son, I will cast down the Angels so they may have their own chance to find love among the supernatural and hopefully, Lucifer can find his chance as well. Promise me to protect your mate, your human from Michael. That is all I ask of you."_

Two days after became known as _De hiis qui corruerunt._ Marked in history books and loathed, but accepted, by demons. The Angels Have Fallen. And that included Lucifer. 

Castiel doesn't blame anyone else for how he got into this position. Lucifer was casted aside, just as him, Angels thought he was the reason behind the falling. Father and him spent so much time on humans to worry about his first creations, there's probably something poetic about that. Castiel can't be bothered to figure out what. 

Maybe he shouldn't be bitter. He was gifted with a human and should treat them with respect, maybe he's jealous. A Seraphim jealous of humans, who pay too much attention to their differences and not enough to their connections, it's sad. 

Him being bitter is what got him caught by Lucifer in the first place. Lucifer was understanding, coaxing him with buttered words, and Castiel was young, younger than most Angels and definitely younger than Lucifer. They were two peas in completely different pods but Castiel didn't care; he was finally understood and talked to, not envied or hated. It was a nice change. 

Castiel never realized it was a lie. 

He was in his younger vessel then, watching after Dean or wandering the Earth aimlessly, when Lucifer found him. He'd always found Castiel fascinating even if he was a lower rank, he whined about being alone and how humans were disgusting creatures that took Father's attention. 

Castiel stepped away from his promise for a minute, and that minute alone got him where he was now. 

In a new vessel, a guy by the name of Jimmy, the old one discarded after Lucifer got bored of it. And has been forced to reside in a shabby basement with leaky pipes and a boarded up window. 

The walls are caked with dust, spider webs are his only decoration, and blood, his blood, paints the floor into a rusty, burgundy colour. 

Castiel sits in a corner with his knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them, handcuffs with Enochian scripts keeping him bound the place. 

He's hungry. A feeling he's never had to experience before, and thirsty, and suddenly has the need to piss and shit but isn't given the privilege to do so in a proper bathroom so he settles for the corner or on himself. 

There's a darkness inside of him. Heavy and it makes his body uncomfortably hot, every movement of his body feels sluggish and he wishes for Death. For The Empty. He apologizes for giving up so easily to the human who doesn't know that he loves them. 

Castiel remembers when he was strong, oh god, his true form was gorgeous. His four heads, all seeing and observing, and six heavy-set, raven wings that could carry him anywhere and everywhere. The grace that branched out onto his chest and glowed, and his body, Castiel sighs wistfully, his large, capable, body that could protect anybody.

He no longer has that, instead he only has one head and two wings.

His grace grows dimmer every time Lucifer takes from him, his mind grows hazy and his radio has been covered in dust for a long while. 

Castiel remembers the promise. He uses what little grace he has to send comforting touches Dean's way, sometimes if he saves up enough. he can blend with the shadows to see him. Castiel knows other Angels want Dean too, they want what Michael can hopefully never get. 

He is still so very bitter. 

"Are you thinkin' about me, Cassie-poo?" Lucifer teases, snapping Castiel out of his turmoil. At his silence, Lucifer pouts, coming down to crouch in front of Castiel. 

"I regret making you change vessels. Your other one was much more, _responsive."_

Castiel's intestines twist uncomfortably. His other vessel was a child. His other vessel was barely ten-year-old. 

"Don't look at me like that, Cassie! You enjoyed it!" 

Yes. He did because it was _new_ and made Castiel feel _good._ Sex wasn't uncommon in Angels but Castiel wanted to wait for Dean. But Lucifer came around with comforting words and built a trust that he never thought would he broken. 

He played and toyed with Castiel. He defiled that poor boy's body, and in a way, so did Castiel for taking it on in the first place. 

"Get up. I want to see my handiwork." Lucifer stands and backs up a few paces. 

Castiel swallows thickly and stands on shaky legs, his ass makes a squelching sound due to the piss below him and between his thighs. He stinks of sweat, shit, and sour urine. He hopes Dean is in a better predicament. 

Castiel turns in his corner so his back is facing his brother. He knows the picture that he paints. 

Naked. Thighs streaked brown and mucky. Body covered in multiple substances, some of which he doesn't know when they got there. And his back, Castiel has to close his eyes. His back in the most shameful part.

Lucifer had his wrists bound the the ceiling and his feet to the floor, stretched in an unbearable position. His wings laid at rest, twitching from time to time while Lucifer circled him. 

_"You don't deserve anything. Not even these."_

Unlucky for Castiel, Lucifer had grown fond of steampunk. 

Castiel remembers each plucked wing, each sound from the splatter of blood hitting the cold, industrial floor as Lucifer hummed Christmas tunes behind him. Like Castiel was some everyday project that he worked on for fun.

Blood dripped down his back, into his ass crack, down his thighs and onto the floor. His face streaked with tears and his body was no longer his. Castiel thinks that he used to scream, used to bed for his brother to stop, but that doesn't matter. Nobody would hear his pleads anyway.

Lucifer pierced through bone and feather to clamp metal cuffs starting along the bend of his wings to the carpal edge. The cuffs wrap his wings around like cartilage would. 

_"Now you're caged to me forever, little birde."_ be cackled while Castiel dropped from his confines and sobbed at the new found pain in his back. 

Castiel took a steadying breath before forcing his wings out of the slits on his back. Skin ripping and blood dropping onto the floor sounds the otherwise quiet basement and Castiel's vision swims. 

His wings are heavier due to the metal and almost bring him down once they become fully unsheathed from his body. 

"You know, I just don't get it. Why that asshole liked you over me. I helped him make all of this! I helped him make _you._ And he ignored me," Lucifer scoffs, shaking his head and running his hands through Castiel's blood covered wings. 

"Now, you are nothing. No mate could possibly want something so broken." 

Something so cursed, Castiel's brain supplies. 

He doesn't escape Lucifer until years later, when he feels something shift, like the world flipped it's axis unexpectedly, and his heart begins to pound in his chest. It's Dean. Something is wrong with him, something bad that Castiel is given the undeniable urge to _claim_ and he can actually stand without almost fainting. 

He does the unthinkable and drains Lucifer of his grace while he's unsuspecting and smug; Castiel traps him between the wall and an Archangel blade that Lucifer didn't discretely hide. 

The surprise on his face is one that Castiel can never forget. Nor can he forget the life going from his eyes once Castiel killed him. 

The grace is only enough to get where Dean is; strapped to some shabby motel bed with Michael hovering over him. All Castiel can see is red. 

He almost dies, the borrowed grace from Lucifer dies out quickly after he goes into Sam's subconscious, claims Dean, and fights Michael. Who would've thought killing two Archangels in one day would take such a toll on a guy. 

He prays, with what little conscious he has left, to Gabriel then blacks out. 

Castiel wakes up in a rundown hotel, the wallpaper is peeling off and the beds squeaking is something awful. He is _exhausted._ His heart feels tired and the bags under his eyes wouldn't even be allowed to be carried on an airplane. 

"He rises," Gabriel says exasperated but there is immense relief in his eyes and Castiel nods weakly.

He wants to say thank you, he does, but he only talked to Lucifer after the fall and he would _love_ when Castiel spoke. When he said "please" and "thank you". So Castiel offers a shaky smiles and nods. 

He's not sure why he never bothered to contact Gabriel sooner. Maybe he didn't want him to get hurt by Lucifer, but nonetheless, Castiel is grateful.

After that, Castiel takes over the hotel. It gives him something to do, keeps him distracted and allows him to see check on Dean more often. He doesn't talk to the townsfolk and Gabriel doesn't pressure him to. After meeting with Donna, he uses a little grace to talk to people through his mind. 

He never talks to her about what happened with Lucifer. Not yet, at least. 

Castiel thinks that maybe, now that he has Dean, he can potentially talk to her about it. If he can never show her, how is he supposed to show his mate? 

Dean makes a low moaning sound behind him, clutching the pillow underneath his head between white-knuckled fists. Castiel reaches under Dean's shirt and brushes his hand against the sweaty back. Dean relaxes under his touch, sighing as he falls back into a deep sleep. That's the only sight Castiel would put above the beautiful glare that the sun gives; Dean's face pushed into the pillow, drool seeping out the side of his mouth and long eyelashes fanned across his freckled, shiny cheeks. 

Ah, Castiel thinks when is heart jumps, this is what love is.

"C'n feel you thinkin' even in my sleep. You okay?" Dean rasps into the pillow, rubbing his face into it before blinking at Castiel. 

Castiel nods. He's going to start molting soon, his wings will need to be groomed and he can't, no, he won't show Dean something so pathetic. 

"Hey," Dean grunts with a frown. He shuffles closer to Castiel and presses a chaste kiss on his lips. "What's goin' on?"

Castiel shakes his head, pushing Dean's shoulder so the man can lie on his back and Castiel can straddle his waist. 

"You're in that kinda mood, eh?" Dean grins sleepily, running his hands up Castiel's naked thighs. The Seraph's cheeks heat but he nods sheepishly, he wants this with Dean. He wants to connect in the ways humans do. That's how they court each other. 

"C'mon, kiss me," Dean urges as he cups Castiel's neck and brings their lips together. Castiel rolls his hips slowly, something he'd seen on The Pizza Man video that Charlie showed him, he must be doing it right because Dean's grip on his thigh and neck tighten.

Dean's mouth is nothing short of intoxicating. He tastes of nothing yet of everything and their tongues dance in a way Castiel can't comprehend even though he knows _everything_. 

"You sure about this?" Dean asks once they've pulled back, Castiel nods and tugs at Dean's boxers. The blonde lets out a breathy laugh and brings Castiel's hands up to his chest. 

"Do you want to top or bottom?"

Castiel squints his eyes then shrugs. Doesn't Dean just, stick it in?

"Here, let's-" Dean lifts his hips as high as he can with Castiel on him and shimmies out of his boxers awkwardly, then kicks them the rest of the way off. Once they both settle back down, Castiel can feel Dean's cock twitch against the curve of his ass in boxers. 

"Do you want to keep your shirt on?" 

Castiel nods quickly. Dean would leave him if he ever saw the open rips on Dean's back. He's just lucky it hasn't bled through yet. 

"That's fine," Dean reassures, "Boxers?" 

Castiel rises and shucks off his boxers then lowers himself back in position. Castiel's cock bobs and leaks against his stomach, this is new, intimate. Dean's skin is warm and makes Castiel smile stupidly, this contact does something to him. Dean's pubic hair brushes against his taint and if Castiel lays on Dean's chest then his balls would rub against his happy trail and lower stomach. 

Dean stares at him with hooded eyes, "C'mere. Sit on my face," 

Castiel makes a weird sound in the back of his throat, face redder than a Leviathan's Blossom. Dean grins, grips his ass cheeks then pulls him to his ass is directly over Dean's mouth. 

"You'll like it, trust me." Dean mummers, the hot breath makes Castiel shudder, then he spreads Castiel's cheeks further before licking a hot stripe across his rim.

Castiel jolts, a heavy sigh escaping him before Dean hums and licks over it again. Castiel can't help but clench and unclench repeatedly at the ministrations. Dean nips lightly at the furled skin before sucking and swirling his tongue inside of him.

Castiel grips Dean's wrists, whimpering and pushing down against the tongue. His cock bobs and the tip leaks pre-cum into Dean's hair. Castiel clenches thighs around Dean's head and whines loudly into the room.

His hands find Dean's hair and instead of combing his fingers through, Castiel digs his nails in Dean's scalp and fucks back against his tongue while letting out small cries and whimpers. 

He should say something right? He should speak, maybe Dean would like if he begged.

Castiel lifts himself to his knees, thighs damp with sweat, and brings himself down to sit back at Dean's waist. He reaches back and runs a curious hand over the thick cock before lining himself up and–

"Cas! Shit, baby, you can't do that. Know you're an Angel an' all but that shit will hurt."

Dean sits up against the headboard, pulling Castiel against his chest before skipping a hand between his cheeks and prodding the saliva-wet hole. Castiel pushes back against the fingers, his cock rubbing teasingly against Dean's defined chest. 

"Gonna use grace to open you up, m'kay?" Dean kisses his shoulder comfortingly. Castiel shivers at how quickly his rim became loose enough for Dean to slide both his fingers in. 

"A-ah!" Castiel hisses, his fingers once again finding their way into Dean's hair and tangling themselves into the blonde locks and tugging. 

"Wish I could hear you more, your voice is too pretty baby," Dean whispers while spreading, scissoring his fingers in Castiel's ass. He crooks and shakes the digits until–

"Mhmph!" Castiel gasps, leaning his head against Dean's shoulder and rocking back against the fingers. What is _this?_ Castiel's stomach feels weird and his ass keeps clenching and, oh _fuck,_ what is that spot that Dean keeps hitting again?

"Fuckin' beautiful, Angel."

Dean gently pulls out his fingers before looking into Castiel's eyes, "Can I?" he prods Castiel's hole with the tip of his cock.

Castiel bites his lip and pushes himself down on it enough so the tip breaches him. 

Dean's head falls back against the headboard and his hands come to clench at Castiel's thighs. Castiel slides down on the rest of the length with his thighs shaking and cock leaking. 

It's thick and long, Castiel is sure that he'll be sore tomorrow but right now he rolls and clenches experimentally around Dean's cock. Castiel leans back, holding onto Dean's knees as he lifts himself off the cock slowly before easing back down causing the two to moan in unison. 

"I-it's hot inside, a-and tight, _fuck,"_ Dean hisses, face contorting in pleasure. Castiel leans forward again and bends his head to suck and bite at Dean's nipples while quickening his pace. 

"D-daddy!" Dean arches into Castiel's mouth, the sensitive nub enduring teasing from Castiel's teeth. Castiel groans, reaching down to first his cock while switching between the red nubs on Dean's chest. Castiel likes when Dean calls him that, it makes his balls draw up and cock dribble more pre-cum on his chest. 

"I can't-can't, fuck daddy! 'M c- _lose!"_ Dean cries out when Castiel sinks his teeth around Dean's nipple. 

The room smells like sex and sweat, it smells like _Dean._

Castiel fucks into his hand while also slamming down on Dean's cock, groaning. Fuck, shit, he's close, oh fuck, _fuck-_

Castiel turns his head and licks at his claim on Dean's left shoulder, he uses his grace to make a makeshift hand press against Dean's perineum and stimulate the prostate form the outside. 

"Fuck, fuck, o-oh! I'm c-coming, Cas, I'm- _shit-_ daddy!" Dean grabs Castiel's hips to slam him down on his cock as he tries to fuck into the deepest part of Castiel. The feeling of being filled sends Castiel over the edge and he shoots his load between there chests in a silent scream.

Castiel falls against Dean's chest, panting heavily, basking in the after glow. 

"Cas?" 

Castiel grunts. 

"I wanna mate you too," Dean whispers, sated and sleepy. Castiel stares wide-eyed at the side of Dean's face. 

"Think it's cause," Dean huffs, eyes drooping and head falling to the side. "Think it's cause I love you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry this is so late. I was having huge problems with my internet but I hope everyone enjoys this!
> 
> also happy pride month!
> 
> This was supposed to be bottom Dean but I don't know what happened... next time!


	6. Blood Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more sex, confirmed feelings, and therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switches in between the first half but later on will be in Dean's POV.
> 
> Please comment any errors, I wrote this at 3 in the morning and am just now finishing it. Oops. 
> 
> This WAS NOT an excuse to write over 1000 words just so I could get some needy, bottom Dean. I swear.
> 
> Translations are at the end as well: 
> 
> Tu n'as aucune idée de ce que tu me fais: You have no idea what you're doing to me 
> 
> Prends ce que je te donne: Take what I give you. 
> 
> Je te dévoilerais mon âme: I would reveal my soul to you.
> 
> Mais elle n'est pas aussi jolie que la tienne: but it's not as pretty as yours.
> 
> Ne meurs pas: Do not die.

"I'm not in love with you." Dean whispers to Castiel's clothed back then closes his eyes tightly and curses. That's not what he meant to say. 

Castiel shuffles under the blankets and turns to face Dean with a deep frown and questioning eyes. 

They're relationship is still fresh, Castiel doesn't talk, except for that one time, and Dean is too scared to tell him about his past; afraid that Castiel might leave him too. It's understandable after all the shit he's been through but he's trying to get better, trying to learn to trust again. He trusts Cas and on some level he knows that Castiel trusts him too. They're just...fucked up. He knows that they'll never grow if neither of them speak.

Dean is still fuzzy on how he truly feels, love has never been an easy pursuit for him, but with Castiel it's different. Castiel is _different._

Castiel likes to read sex novels and tend to bees with the local Beekeeper, Cain. He likes to eat chunky peanut butter and honey sandwiches, he likes ginger in his tea and can make Dean smile without even talking. He makes Dean's insides hot like lava.

He likes looking at Dean in the eyes when he speaks like he's doing right now; paralyzing Dean with bright azure eyes that shine bright in the darkness of their room. 

Dean shuffles a little closer to Castiel; their knees touch in their curled positions as he tries to calm down his pounding heart.

"I didn't mean it like that, I–" Dean sighs shakily. He's shit at this. "I didn't have to kiss you to know I was in love with you." Castiel's breath hitching is loud and almost makes Dean choke from how fast he holds his own.

Dean licks his lips. 

"I dated this chick named Lisa and she liked to hurt me, I guess? I mean–I liked it but one day–" God, he feels nauseous. Castiel tugs his hand from underneath his head and cups it around Dean's waist then tugs them closer together. 

Their breaths mingle and legs tangle together. 

"I liked when she hurt me, it was gratifying like I was being punished for letting Michael find us or for my mom leaving and she liked to use knifes or whatever–that's not the point I'm just– _fuck–_ She almost killed me one day. My grace wasn't as crazy as it is now and with the pain it helped keep it at bay. She was acting different or something? I–she, uh, she wanted to play or whatever and I loved her, ya know? So I said–I said yes and we–she," Dean chuckles, sniffling. 

"She seemed so, mad? I realize now that she must'a realized who I really was, what I was capable of doing, because she had an Angel Blade and I was, coming. I–my dick was so hard and I just–I couldn't stop because it felt _good._ There was a lot of blood, and needles, she stuck needles in my thighs. I remember panicking mid orgasm and I just, vanished back to my car. I was bleeding everywhere and my–I was still hard. It was–I loved her, Cas. I _loved_ her because I _needed_ to feel that pain and she was the only person who could give it to me but I-I have you now and I'm _in love_ with you, y-you make me feel safe but I need- I _need_ –Cas," 

Dean's jaw clicks shut, eyes watery and downcast. He shouldn't have said anything. He's sick in the head and to want–he swallows thickly–to want _that_ is disgusting, it's–

Castiel's hand slides up the curve of side before he slides his hand down and brushes his thumb over Dean's nipple. Dean shudders and looks up. 

Castiel leans forward to plant a soft, demure kiss on his lips; his body cold against Dean's. Castiel slips an arm underneath Dean's side that's dipped into the mattress then grabs two handfuls of his ass and rolls them so Dean is straddling his lap. 

"Can I–" Dean shakes his head, biting the gum inside his cheek and Castiel raises his hand before smacking it down on Dean's thigh, causing him to cry out and lurch upwards on his knees. Castiel runs over the warm skin and makes an inquiring sound. 

"Jus' wanna," Dean slurs, settling back down. "Jus' wanna see your face, daddy." Castiel reaches over to turn on the nightstand lamp; it creates a beautiful orange/yellowish hue and illuminates Castiel's face and Dean's lower half in the darkness. 

"Thank you." Castiel makes a face before smacking his hand back down in the same spot, shooting Dean a pointed look. 

"D-daddy?" he tests. "T-thank you, daddy." he corrects and Castiel hums, pleased. 

Dean's cock strains against his panties; a simple, no fancy pattern dark green boyshort pair with bolded letters that say **'PINK'** along the boarder that he's sure Castiel doesn't understand that they're for women. 

Castiel snaps the top of his underwear and nudges him. Dean takes the hint, leaning down on Castiel's chest for support as he strips from his only article of clothing. He misses Castiel's pained expression from having his back pressed heavily against the bed. 

Castiel lifts his hips for Dean to strip him as well, keeping his shirt on much to Dean's disappointment, then scoots up the headboard. 

"Wanna see all of you," Dean mumbles, rocking back against Castiel's cock that throbs against his crack. Castiel distracts Dean by gripping his ass and pulling him against Castiel's chest so Dean's cock can rub firmly up and down his midsection.

Castiel leans down to bite and suck hickeys into Dean's neck, bathing in Dean's whimpers and uncontrolled bucking of hips. He feels Dean's hand snake between them to fuck into his fist. 

Castiel delivers two swift slaps to each of his thighs.

"F-fuck! 'M sorry, sorry daddy, w-won't happen 'gain." Dean whines, pinning hot, sloppy kisses along Castiel's neck.

Castiel looks down between them, cock twitching at the scene unfolding in front of him. The lamp beside them gives Castiel a perfect view of the foreskin on Dean's cock that pulls back with each rut against Castiel's stomach, precum gathering between the folds only to be pushed back out after each rock of his hips. 

"J-Jesus, fuck–" Dean hisses, body dampening with sweat causing his thighs sticking to Castiel's. He's so, oh, oh, _oh–_

Castiel digs his nails into the younger's hips, effectively stilling Dean, who let's out a high pitched whine from the back of his throat. 

Maybe there's something wrong with Castiel. He likes it; making Dean's skin red and causing the tears in his eyes. Castiel knows just as easily as he can make them shed, he can wipe them away. 

It's different from when he was Lucifer's toy on the receiving ends of things. A darkness crept up inside of him everytime and tugged at his balls; fingers curling and gripping until he passed out. This time, though, he's giving. He's giving it to Dean, his human, his other half.

Something clicks inside of him, his eyes burn, and he leaves deeper crescent shaped indents into Dean's skin. 

He needs this. 

He needs _Dean._

"Je t'aime," he whispers while looking into Dean's eyes. That forest. Jesus, Castiel is going to get lost in it. 

"Je t'aime." he says more firmly, leaning down to leave more love bites onto Dean's skin.

Castiel wishes he could etch them onto his bones as a permanent mark. Dean's back arches as he chases Castiel's warm mouth. He reaches one hand to cup the back of Castiel's neck while the other hides itself in the dark tornado that is Castiel's hair. 

"Love you too, love you so much, daddy." Dean's eyes flutter closed as Castiel's hand comes to rest on the middle of Dean's back where it arches. Castiel reclines back against the headboard, a line of saliva trails from his red stained lips to the colouring teeth marks that Castiel left. 

Dean tightens his hold on black strands and tilts Castiel's head up so their lips can slot together. Blood and saliva mix together as do their tongues which lick repeatedly at one another before Castiel growls lowly and bites Dean's lower lip as he pulls away. 

"Tu n'as aucune idée de ce que tu me fais." Castiel shakes his head, sliding the hand that was resting on Dean's back down lower until two fingers rest on his tailbone.

Dean, still lust-drunk and floating, frowns in confusion as he tries to piece the words together in his hazy mind. It's the most words Castiel has ever said but Dean can't get past the fog in his mind to comprehend any of it. 

Castiel's curious fingers slide between Dean's cheeks then graze his rim carefully. Castiel stares at Dean questioningly. 

"You can use lube o-or your grace," Dean's cheeks heat, "If you want." 

Dean doesn't have time to take back his suggestion because immediately after he feels his hole loosen with something cold and drippy. Castiel rubs the pad of his middle finger along Dean's wet hole before pushing past the muscle until he's knuckle deep. 

Dean's toes curl and his thighs lock up at the intrusion. Castiel pulls the finger out halfway before accompanying it with his index finger then pushing the two back it. 

"S'good, daddy." Dean sighs, eyes fluttering closed. The digits spread inside him, caressing his walls and prodding, searching for– 

"T-there!" Dean gasps as he clenches and rides Castiel's fingers, they jab and poke at his prostate causing his cock to leak profusely and his nails dig into Castiel's scalp. "More, more more, please." 

Dean's body hurts. His thighs are cramping even though his whole weight is on Castiel's lap, the tip of Castiel's nails actually scrape against his prostate in a way that makes his cock hard but soften at the same time, and his arms are heavy as well as his eyes. He fucking loves it. 

Castiel huffs, squishing in a third finger next to the other two and Dean writhes at the stretch, his head coming down to rest on Castiel's sweaty shoulder. "Daddy, gimme it, please. 'M ready," 

Castiel jams his fingers harshly against Dean's prostate, "Prends ce que je te donne." 

Drool seeps out of Dean's mouth while he openly pants, eyes fighting to stay open. Castiel talking makes a shiver run down Dean's spine, it makes his cock jerk and body run from hot to hotter. 

The orange hue from the lamp isn't enough to satisfy Dean's need to want to see all of Castiel, especially with the Angel wearing Dean's old Led Zeppelin tee and refusing to take it off. Dean just wants Castiel, wants to see him, all of him like Castiel can see him. 

"Je te dévoilerais mon âme," Castiel widens his fingers and Dean gasps, pushing back against them. "Mais elle n'est pas aussi jolie que la tienne." Castiel licks the outer shell on Dean's ear. 

"C-Cas," Dean sniffles, wetness drops onto Castiel's shoulder due to Dean's overstimulation. "Daddy, j-just– _please,_ " Dean isn't sure what he's asking for; maybe for more pain or for Castiel to speak English, and it _hurts._

Both their bodies are sweaty which makes the comforter stick to them uncomfortably, their nipples have brushed against each other more than once, and underneath the awkward parts of their bodies, sweat gathers. Dean's thighs hurt from their earlier smacks and Castiel's back aches with the need to stretch his wings. It _hurts._ It's uncomprehensive as to why they both enjoy it so much. 

"Love you, loveyouloveyou," Dean babbles, rolling and wiggling his hips on Castiel's long fingers. They practically dance and makeout with his prostate even while scraping against it painfully. 

Castiel tugs Dean's head up by his hair and kisses him fiercely; their teeth knock together and their tongues explore each other's mouths. Castiel removes his fingers from the abused hole before moving their position; Dean on his back, legs wrapped firmly around Castiel's waist, with Castiel's hands either side of his head. 

Castiel grips the underside of Dean's knees to push them higher up on the man's chest, folding him in half. Dean blushes to the tips of his ears at the exposure and turns his head into the pillow. Castiel clicks his teeth and smacks under Dean's thigh three times. 

"Sonovabitch!" Dean's cock twitches and his hole clenches. Castiel brings Dean's hands to hold up his own legs then leans down to– _oh._

"Nooo!" Dean wails, tears flowing freely. "No, no, w-want your- _oh god-_ your cock! P-please, please! Daddy, 'm gonna d-die, please," he sobs, blubbering out half sentences that he most definitely will regret tomorrow morning. 

Castiel returns back to his original position, the tip of his cock nudging Dean's hole. "Ne meurs pas." Dean can feel the nudge of Castiel's smiling cheeks against his heated ones. 

"G-gimme it, I'll be g-good, promise! J-just need y-you." 

Castiel lowers himself onto his forearms then uses the pads of his thumb to wipe away Dean's tears. 

Dean would make the perfect painting like this. Red-faced and swollen eyes from crying, and pink nosed from the sniffling. Body littered in teeth marks and nail indents. 

Castiel brushes his hand on his claim that resides on Dean's left arm. He tightens his grip on it and breaches Dean's hole with his cock. 

" _Yes!_ Aah!" 

Castiel uses his free hand to run his finger up and down the column of Dean's throat; his mate's voice has gone hoarse and raw from it's constant use. 

It's beautiful. Dean's beautiful. 

"Move, d-daddy, 'm good." Dean blinks heavily with a dopey smile on his face. Castiel allows Dean's leg to wrap around his waist before he pulls almost all the way out, then slams back it. 

Dean's hands scramble and take purchase of the cover below him and wrings his hands in the fabric. Castiel's thrusts are brutal, they hit his prostate dead-on which leads his body to quiver and melt into the mattress. 

He's sure words are coming out of his mouth, sloppy and partnered with drool, but he's too floaty to focus on them. The feel of Castiel's cock dragging in and out of him, assaulting his prostate has his cock jerking angrily and leaking into his belly button. 

Castiel's big and thick, Dean knows from when he gives him the occasional handjob but having it inside of him is, sweet Jesus. 

"F-fuck me! Harder, daddy! D-daddy! I-I'm gonna, oh, oh, fuck!" Dean shudders violently as a cold tendril wraps around and tightens on the base of Dean's cock. This is Castiel's grace, Castiel wrapped his–shit, fuck, Dean's balls draw and he arches into Castiel. 

The tendril tightens, stopping Dean's impending orgasm and Castiel tightens their position. His feet drag further into the sheet and his arms have moved so their wrapped around Dean, completely enveloping him. His body is raised in an almost uncomfortable position so he can stare into Dean's hazy eyes. Castiel's thrust don't halter, if anything they piston faster and his cock grows bigger inside of him.

Dean sobs on his cock. 

"Daddy! Daddy please lemme– _fuck!"_ Dean eyes roll back as grace enters through his urethra like a sound. 

Castiel digs his nails into Dean's sides and growls lowly in his chest, he uses another tendril of grace to press on Dean's perineum so it can stimulate his prostate from the outside. 

Dean tightens his legs around Castiel's waist and clenches down hard, "'M gonna–make me come, p-please daddy, lemme come, 'm close, 'm–" 

Castiel head falls on Dean's shoulder and he makes another low noise before pushing Dean down on his cock and getting rid of the grace completely.

Dean shoots between them not even seconds later, letting out a string of 'Daddy's' or broken versions of Castiel's name. 

The repeated tightening of Dean's body leads Castiel to his Earth-shattering orgasm, filling Dean to the point where some dribbles out of his puffy hole.

The sound of their heavy breathing fills the room as well as the smell of sex. 

Castiel lifts his head so they can kiss lazily, Dean's drool swapping between them. Castiel pulls back first, a fond look in his eyes as he stares at Dean. 

Say it. Say it in English, Castiel. 

"I love you." 

Dean eyes widen slowly before they crease at the sides and he plants another sloppy kiss on Castiel's mouth. 

"I love you too." 

Castiel nods happily before turning them on their sides, Dean still kept on his cock. 

"Gonna have to pee soon," Dean states, eyes already closing and breath evening out. Castiel hums and pushes his hips higher, the squelch of cum sounds the room making Dean's nose scrunch. 

"Don't tell me you're into watersports." 

Castiel kisses the top of his head and chuckles when Dean whines. 

"'S gross, daddy." 

"I won't pee in you, Dean. Just stay on my cock for a while." Castiel isn't used to speaking this many words outloud but it's worth it to see Dean smile sleepily. Lucifer can't hurt him, not anymore but the thought of speaking further makes a sweat breakout onto his skin, adding to previous layer. 

If he talks more, Dean will ask about him. Ask about his wings. Can he even handle that? 

"Nasty motherfucker." he mummers fondly, swinging his leg over Castiel's hip while the other is cocked above Castiel's own curved ones. 

"Thank you, daddy." 

Castiel strokes Dean's hair until the other falls asleep. He knows he's going to have to wake him up so both of them can pee but for now, he's content to watch Dean sleep. 

* * *

"So you heard Castiel speak?" Donna smiles brightly and claps her hands a little.

Dean flushes and nods, "It was mostly in French and fuck all if I passed that, but he said he loved me in English." 

"How did that make you feel?"

Dean sighs and leans back against the couch. 

"It felt like I was dying. Like, it wasn't–my heart clenched and he looked so scared to tell me but, I said it back and the relief on his face–the happiness." Dean sighs, "It's like, shit, I can't even explain it. It hurt. It hurt but not in the way that the others hurt, no. This was–it was like my soul shifted. Like I was finally, loved, accepted." 

Donna writes down Dean's ranting before she pauses and peers at him through her lashes. "You told him about Lisa. Did he say anything about that?" 

"No. We just, ya know." Dean blushes. His body is red and purple underneath his clothes and his ass is incredibly sore. "It was good, it felt like I was there but I wasn't, he took care of me." 

"And you aren't just saying you love him because he gives you affection that you've never had before, are you?" 

Dean looks at her, scandalized. 

"No! I know, that it's soon, we've only been dating for almost two months but–" 

"Castiel has loved you for Eons. I'm just worried about him and I know that this breaks confidentiality but I need you to know that Castiel has watched over you since you came into existence. Before he was taken–" Donna shakes her head. "When you came here it was like something snapped inside of him. Sure he talked but he never engaged. I'm just–he loves you. He would create worlds for you, Dean. That isn't a joke." 

Dean piles away some of those words for later use as he looks at Donna in the eyes. 

"I'm in love with Castiel. I can't create worlds for him, I can't give him a family but I can love him and make him feel like how he makes me feel. My mom always said there were Angels watching over me and now I finally believe her. Castiel is–he's–" Dean clenches his fists. 

"He's it for me. He's mine. and I love him. Not for the sex or for the fact that he claimed me because I couldn't give a rats ass–He makes me feel like I could climb mountains. Like I can actually get out of bed in the morning, like I can eat without being forced–He's _my_ Angel, Donna." 

Donna regards him for a few seconds before her bright smile takes over.

"Is that why you called him daddy?" 

Dean's eyes widen and a furious blush takes over his cheeks.

"Castiel's appointments are before yours and he is much more, vivid in his descriptions." 

"Sonovabitch." Dean shakes his head then shrugs. "Whenever I say it, it's not, sexual. I don't, I mean, I can get turned on by it but when I say it it's because he makes me feel like my dad never could, or anyone else for that matter." Dean frowns at himself. "I don't think of any dad when I say it. That's fuckin' gross, I say it when I feel, loved, around him I guess." 

"Do you think it has something to connect with your separation anxiety or abandonment issues?" 

"Maybe. Maybe the abandonment issues, everyone leaves, ya know? And when I call him daddy, it makes me feel like he's gonna stay. I don't know–it's like it's permanent. Like I know he's going to stay and protect me? Does that make sense?" 

Donna nods, "It makes perfect sense, Dean. And even if it doesn't, you still said it so it still matters. Do you want to say it all the time?" 

"I think so. But I don't know if he–" 

"Forget him. What do you want?" 

"I want to call him that, all the time. He makes me _feel_ , Donna. It's–is that weird?" 

"No. People have all sorts of kinks, none of which I would shame. I think that you should call him that, whenever you guys go out somewhere since you're so used to doing it in an intimate setting. The word doesn't have to stick to the bedroom." 

The timer on Donna's stand goes off softly and they both give each other happy, satisfied grins. Dean gives Donna a hug goodbye, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaves. 

He feels, good. Light. 

Entering the hotel, hoping to find Charlie or Benny, Dean stops short at the familiar female standing at the front desk. 

"Cassie?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, what's Cassie doing here? 
> 
> Tu n'as aucune idée de ce que tu me fais: You have no idea what you're doing to me 
> 
> Prends ce que je te donne: Take what I give you. 
> 
> Je te dévoilerais mon âme: I would reveal my soul to you.
> 
> Mais elle n'est pas aussi jolie que la tienne: But it's not as pretty as yours.
> 
> Ne meurs pas: Do not die.


	7. Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships fall apart without communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop writing at 12am, somebody help. More sex in the next chapter because I got a great, terrible idea!
> 
> **WARNING: Rape is in this chapter! ******
> 
> ****Manger?: Eat?** **
> 
> ****Mange maintenant, s'il te plaît: Eat now, please** **
> 
> ****Sam m'a parlé: Sam spoke to me** **
> 
> ****Déchiré: torn up, broken, agonized. (Synonyms for broken, basically.)** **

"Dean!" Cassie's eyes widen a fraction before she lets out a surprised chuckle and walks over with her arms open wide. Dean steps back instinctively, hands stuffed in his pockets and Cassie drops her arms to her sides, smile only faltering slightly. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I'm photographing a wedding." she lifts her shoulder to gesture to the black straps of a camera bag.

"The wedding is three weeks away." 

"I like to scope out what I'm working with early. Enough about me, how are you?" 

"Healthy." a roundabout way of answering but it's the truth. Cas has been taking care of him. He's been taking care of himself. 

Cassie opens her mouth, ready to say more. 

"Hello! Bonjour! Welcome to Novak Hotel and Spa! Would you like a tour?" Charlie appears behind the desk, hair bouncing like she teleported, startling the two.

Cassie departs with a small nod in Dean's direction and Dean gives a tight-lipped smile. How long has it been since he's seen her? Four, almost five, months? 

Acid bubbles in Dean's stomach.

Dean's phone buzzing in his back pocket is what brings him back to reality. He blinks a few times, moving his legs so he can sit on one of the lobby chairs then fishes for his phone. 

"Winchester." he grunts, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. 

"Dean, man, I'm freaking out, I can't find a place to seat mom at the wedding, I mean there's space between Ellen and Bobby but that would be awkward considering–" 

Dean leans forward in his seat, waving his hand as to stop Sam even though he's not in front of him. 

"Whaddya mean 'mom'?" 

Sam makes a noise between annoyance and confusion.

"Mary? The woman who gave birth to us? Dean?" Sam presses at Dean's silence. 

"...You've talked to her?" 

"Yeah, I–she never called you?" 

Dean thinks of a million excuses right off the bat, defensive on behalf of his mother but her own magic rivals Sam's and Sam found him easily. 

"Guess she didn't want to." Dean's chuckle is devoid of any humor. "She left us, Sam. I don't even know why you're fuckin' inviting her." 

"We talked. Of course I haven't forgiven her completely but I had to at least invite her to my wedding." Sam defends.

"Would you invite John?" he bites. Not sir, not dad, but _John._ His abusive, alcoholic, father who couldn't tell shit from snow. 

"Of course not–" 

"So why her?! I was more than a mother than she ever was, so why her, Sammy!" Dean's jaw clenches and he tightens his grip on the phone.

"She's our _mom,_ I couldn't just leave her out of the picture." 

"I don't give a damn if it was the Prime Minister. _I_ changed your dirty diapers, _I_ gave you most of the food, _I_ worked my ass trying to keep us off the streets. Where the _fuck_ is my credit, Sam?" 

It's not fair. Sam did invite him, protected him against the seemingly inevitable but Dean is tired. He's tired of the past coming back to bite him in his ass, he's tired of feeling like he can never get a break, like something is always out to get him. Dean presses the heel of his hand into his eye. 

"Dean," Sam starts, voice small and hesitant. 

"Forget it, Sammy. It's–I guess I was more upset about her than I remembered. Put Jo between Ellen and Mary and Bobby at Ellen's other end." 

Dean already knows what the seating chart looks like, on the back of the board of Candyland because Gabriel was too lazy to get paper, which has Jo seated in one of the far tables with Ash, who will probably be too hammered to worry about Jo's movement. 

"Thanks." Sam mumbles, "Dean, you know that I'm grateful for everything you did and do right?" 

Dean's lips twitch upwards and he huffs, "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all emotional on me, bitch." 

"Jerk." the response immediate and playful. It's familiar.

"I love you, Sammy." he says, mostly because he's only said it once in his entire life and John beat the shit out of him for it.

"Winchesters don't love, boy." he had said. 

"I love you too, De." 

Dean smiles down at the ground, previous aggression and anger faded but not completely gone. 

"Oh! Are you going to confession night?" Sam asks excitedly. 

"You mean getting drunk enough to the point where we spill secrets and see who remembers it in the morning?" 

"Yeah." Sam has the audacity to sound sheepish. Dean agrees to meet at The Roadhouse a little after eight, seeing as it's only six maybe he can get some sleep. 

The elevator ride to his room has his thoughts swimming.

Mary Winchester. Dean sighs, suddenly weak as his body, starting his heart, begins to grow numb. 

Opening the door, Dean toes off his shoes and peels off his clothing, letting them pool to the floor, before trudging to the bed. 

It's annoying how self aware he is of the unhealthy habit; crawling into bed when he reaches emotional capacity and not getting up until Cas wakes him or nature calls. He knows he's supposed to get up, he's supposed to do something to stay out of the warm nest that Castiel made. He tells himself it's to make up for lost times when he never got to sleep.

Dean's mind goes blank with sleep for what he thinks is five minutes before chapped, but soft, lips press against his shoulder. 

"Daddy?" he mumbles, more like slurs but who cares. Castiel hums quietly before sliding into bed with him, the pressed slacks making his leg hairs twist uncomfortably. 

Dean groans, kicking at his boyfriend's leg. "Take 'em off. Itchy." 

Castiel obeys then turns Dean so his back is pressed against Castiel's clothed chest. Castiel's lips graze Dean's shoulder gently, causing the younger to shiver. 

"''M sleepy." Dean sighs, eyes burning with tears as he interlocks hands with Castiel's own which is laid loosely at his hip. 

"Manger?" 

"Had granola bars n' some water before I went to therapy." 

"Mangez maintenant, s'il vous plaît." 

"Mhm." 

Castiel hums happily, snapping his fingers to turn on the lights and sitting the two up against the headboard. 

"Sam m'a parlé." Dean busies himself by playing with the hem of his panties; a dark orange lace this time, only because he wasn't expecting Castiel come to bed so soon.

He doesn't want to talk about Sam, at least not for another hour. 

"Pizza ou hamburgers?" Castiel asks after realizing Dean isn't going to speak on the matter any time soon.

"If I ask for a burger you're gonna make me eat that rabbit food aren't you?"

"Oui."

Veggie burgers and Dean Winchester don't usually mix but eating heavy meats for so long as a kid had a negative impact and makes him go nauseous. He doesn't mind it, Castiel likes making sure he eats healthy anyway. 

It's not even a minute before the food appears before them, bags dotted with grease and the savory smell fries and melted cheese. 

Dean digs in immediately while Castiel takes his time, eating the fries from Dean's bag much to the human's displeasure. 

"Fuck off, Cas!" 

"What happened to daddy?" 

Dean's cheeks heat and he stuffs the last of the burger in his mouth, cheeks puffed adorably. Castiel gently trails a finger above the hem of Dean's panties. 

"They're very pretty, Dean. Did you wear them for me?" the question isn't laced with lust but genuine curiosity and that only makes Dean's blush darken.

"No, jus' like wearing them. I'm–they make me feel comfortable, I guess."

The tip of Castiel's finger grazes over the tip of Dean's limp cock. 

"When Father made you," Castiel sighs wistfully, "It was like watching him make the moon." 

Dean pushes at Castiel's chest but the Angel doesn't budge. 

"No galaxy could compare to your beauty, Dean. I was paralyzed when I saw your soul," Castiel leans closer, his breath dancing on Dean's ear. "I think that was the first time I ever came." 

"Jesus Cas! I miss the mute you." Dean covers his face with his hands, cock twitching and hole clenching. 

He doesn't, not in the slightest. Two nights ago was immense progress for them. Castiel tends to go for sentences that have less syllables depending on what language he chooses to speak (Dean prefers French but is always to horny to understand what he's saying half the time.), he still keeps on his shirt whenever they lie together, but at least he talks. He laughs. He tells Dean that he loves him. 

"Dean," 

"What?" 

" _Dean."_

Dean slowly uncovers his face to glance at Cas from under his eyelashes. "Yes, daddy?" 

Now that, this daddy situation wasn't spoken of. There were no rules about it and Dean mostly called him that in the bedroom, but maybe tonight, he could try to say it in public. 

A slow, warm smile spreads across Castiel's face. His head tilts slightly. "Roadhouse. It's late."

"Can we a least get off first?" 

"No." 

"Fuckin' dick with wings." 

_Smack! Smack! Smack!_

"Late." Castiel repeats, rubbing Dean's heated thigh. 

Dean pouts the entire time he's putting on his clothes.

* * *

"You guys decided to make it!" Garth cheers, cheeks already flushed and eyes flashing from red back to his original colour.

"Who let the wolf drink? You guys know how he gets." Dean chastises, only partially joking because Garth is very, _territorial,_ as a wolf. He shudders at the memory. There was so much urine. 

The rest of the table cheers, lifting their beers to the entering couple. 

Castiel enters the booth before Dean, who plops next to him and raps his fingers along the wood table. 

"Who we waiting on?" Dean asks as he waves Jo over for a beer, Castiel denies the offer for his own politely. 

Charlie is sat comfortably on Dorothy's lap, sharing what looks like something citrusy on the chair pulled up to the booth; Benny and Andrea are huddled together across the table from Dean and Cas; Jo and Ash linger at the table from time to time but go about serving other customers; And Garth is swaying slightly in his own seat; Bess absent. 

"Sam and Gabriel," Ellen chirps from behind the bar as she wipes down a glass.

Dean sips his beer, unconsciously leaning against Castiel's side. It isn't long before low whistles and hands banging on the table surround them.

"We were worried you guys would never get together!" Jo shouts from the other side of the bar, lifting a drink that's not even hers in celebration which leads everyone else to follow. 

"Castiel would not shut up about you. He was all," Charlie snorts as she tries to impersonate Castiel's gravelly voice, "His eyes are so green. His soul is brighter than the sun. Do you think he'll like me?" The table howls with laughter. 

Castiel has a gummy smile on his face, despite his flushed cheeks, and Dean gets a fluttering feeling in his stomach all over again. He rests his hand over Castiel's, locking their fingers together like before while sipping his beer. 

"Party people!" Gabriel shouts, Sam and Cassie flowing behind, slamming the doors open with a practiced fashion.

Dean's fingers tighten momentarily and he shuffles impossibly closer to Castiel, hooking their ankles together. Castiel uses his thumb to stroke the handcuff around Dean's wrist, sending him a concerned look which Dean ignores. 

"I don't care if you're an Archangel, Gabe. You break my doors, you're gonna pay!" 

'Oooo's echo along the table along with loud, drunken laughter. Gabriel sends an air kiss to Ellen then takes a seat on Sam's lap after the younger had found an available seat. 

Cassie eyes the seat next to Dean before sitting down a little too close for his comfort. Apperently the same goes for Castiel's comfort because the Angel growls low in his throat, not that Cassie notices.

"Who's the fresh meat?" Dorothy raises her eyebrows, downing the rest of the shared drink between her and Charlie. 

Gabriel gestures brightly at Cassie, "Our wedding photographer, Cassie!" 

"Sweet! Guess I'm off that job!" Ash calls from the back, fist pumping in victory while Gabriel pouts. 

"Be careful, Cassie, Gabriel is a total bridezilla." everyone around the table nods in agreement and Cassie chuckles. 

"I would say I've handled worse but I saw him freak out about how the sun will be placed on the big day so..." 

"Hey! If I was there when the sun was being made, I deserve rights as to where it should be positioned when I kiss my soon-to-be husband!" 

The table makes loud cooing noises and Sam blushes furiously behind Gabriel's back. 

"The big city was too much, Cassie?" Benny asks, ever the gentleman even with his cup of murky blood, provided by Jo, of course. 

Jo delivers another round of what everyone is drinking along with a tray of shots, the group has to hold Garth back from taking anymore, while Cassie thinks.

"Yeah. Montreal, in most areas, can be suffocating and I got this job, small town, nice people, and I decided 'fuck it'. Plus weddings are always so beautiful in the summer." 

Dean clenches his jaw. Did she mean _he_ was suffocating? Dean tried not to be, he learned from Castiel to be better, he _is_ better. It doesn't help that he never left Montreal after they broke up; maybe he still had hope back then. Maybe he had hoped they would get married in the summer too. 

"I hope you find this place homey, all supernatural is welcome here and we don't discriminate. It must be hard not knowing people though, hun." Andrea frowns thoughtfully.

"Actually," Cassie starts and Dean's breath hitches. Shut up, shut up, shut–

"Dean and I go way back." 

Dean tilts his head and finishes his beer, slamming the bottle on the table with a little more force than necessary. 

Immediately, everyone is intrigued. 

"How bow-legged are his legs?" 

"Does he always listen to Metallica on full volume?" 

"Why is he so attached to his car?" 

"How long did you guys date?" 

Dean grumbles under his breath and downs three of the shots on the tray. They'll burn as they go down his throat.

"Nobody said anything about dating." Dean bites while Cassie answers, "Three years." 

The silence is deafening. 

"Well, shit." Garth whistles and takes a shot. Nobody reprimands him. 

Everyone else collectively joins. 

Dean spares a glance at Castiel, who's jaw is locked and gaze firmly locked on the side of Cassie's face. If looks could kill. 

While everyone rains questions down on the new guest, Dean leans closer to Castiel. 

"Daddy? Are you mad?" fuck, why does his voice sound so small? 

Castiel eyes widen, his cheeks darken, and he makes a surprised sound front the back of his throat. 

Dean has to stop himself from kissing Castiel right then and there.

"I wish you told me." 

Dean bristles. "I didn't have to and it's not like you tell me anything either." 

Castiel's gaze hardens and the handprint on Dean's shoulder itches. 

"Daddy, please, we can talk about this later, I'm sorry. I didn't think it was important." Dean whispers urgently, trying to sooth Castiel. 

Castiel looks away, face stoic and Dean's stomach drops.

"Daddy, _daddy_ please." Dean's bottom lip wobbles and what is he, a fucking chick? So what if Castiel is mad? He didn't have to tell him a damn thing and Castiel isn't exactly talkative. 

Shit, this is not how he wanted this to happen. 

Dean has a handful of information on Castiel while Castiel could make a movie on the shit he knows about Dean. So why does it hurt to deny his mate what he wants to know? 

With a flutter of wings and small burst of wind, Castiel leaves. 

"Oh, noooooo," Charlie pouts, clearly drunk. "Why'd Cassie leave?" 

Cassie turns at the mention of her name and Dean tenses, hands shaking at his sides. "He wasn't feeling well." 

Dean counts to ten before moving.

"I should–sorry guys, I have to go." Cassie leaves the booth so Dean can exit. Dean is halfway to the hotel when he feels a hand pull on his arm. 

Cassie smiles at him sadly. "It's too late for us, isn't it?" 

"I'm sorry–" 

"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for. Breaking up with you because I didn't know how to handle your bisexuality is a childish mistake on my part. I see how happy you are here. I see how happy he makes you. I'm glad you're doing better, Dean." 

"Thank you, Cass." he squeezes her hand before running to the motel and really, he's too old to be running after his lover but he would always run to Castiel. 

Dean's slammed onto the bed as soon as he enters their room. His clothes are manhandled off and Castiel is biting harshly into his skin; the lights that are on are the only way for Dean to see the top of unruly raven hair. 

Dean squirms, stomach churning. "Shit–ah! That hurts, Cas–stop!" 

Castiel pins his wrists down to the bed, panting. His eyes wild and flashing a blinding blue. He doesn't care. Dean needs to know that Castiel can't–Father have mercy on his soul–Castiel can't live without this man.

"When you call me Cas, do you think of her?" 

Castiel pushes Dean higher up on the bed, taking his soft cock out through the zip of his slacks.

"No! Cas, daddy, I–" 

"Don't lie to me! She's perfect! She still loves you, you should go after her," Castiel's voice breaks, still laced with anger and underlying hurt. He gathers Dean's wrists in one hand and tries to stroke himself to full hardness. 

"When I fuck you, do you think of her curls on your face? Do you think of her saying your name?" 

Castiel's body shakes as presses insistently against Dean's hole; cock only half hard. 

"I don't love her. Yes. Yes, okay, I fuckin–when I came here I had just broken up with her, she kept my grace calm and we were–she trusts me. I trusted her and when I told her I also liked men, it was difficult. Insecurities broke the relationship but I don't–C-as!" Dean's toes curl at Castiel's tip nestled inside of him. 

It hurts. It _hurts._ Dean's breath picks up and he kicks out his feet. 

He's hard. Of course he is, he can taste the sweetness of pain that Castiel is giving him all in the wrong situation but Christ, he's _leaking_ even though he doesn't want this. He doesn't want _Cas_ like this. 

"Am I your distraction? Did you need another Cass, Dean?"

"Daddy s-stop, please." 

"Did you call her that too?" 

"No. I would never, you know that! This is new to me, I like calling you that. You make me feel like I can do it without getting–" 

"I'm broken. That's why you don't want me anymore, isn't it?" 

"Castiel," the name is too big and clumsy in his mouth, his mind dizzy with pleasure. Is it pleasure? Or has he gotten it mixed with pain again? "I don't understand." 

Hot droplets land on Dean's face. His cheeks, his nose, the corner of his own tear ducts.

"No." Castiel whispers. "I suppose you don't." 

Castiel doesn't move a muscle, his cock is rapidly softening and the grip he has on Dean's wrists is lax. He doesn't know this feeling. Tears clump his eyelashes together and fear takes over his body. 

Skin tearing isn't a pleasant sound. Neither is blood splattering; it hits the walls like someone getting smacked or cracking bones; like his bones are being rearranged. Neither is Castiel's sobs; louder than Castiel's words. It's loud, too loud and Dean's ears are twitching from the noise. 

Castiel's wings almost touch the walls of the room, fluffy and Dean can make out the raven colour from the parts that aren't covered in blood. The blood is dark, almost like it's old and has scabbed over almost a million times. It drops onto Dean's face, making him flinch back. Bloodied cuffs are clamped onto the wings, which twitch and spasm at their new release. 

There's only two. 

Dean stares at them, eyebrows pinches together. There's only _two._

"Aren't you suppose to have six?" 

Dean's eyes widen once the sentence leaves his mouth. Castiel nods solemnly. 

"Déchiré." Caatiel stumbles back, face pale. A steady flow of blood leaves his back, staining his–Dean's–shirt. "You should be with Cassie." 

With a flap and another burst of wind, Castiel leaves.

Dean's heart pounds against his ribcage, his throat suddenly dry and scratchy as he stares at the ceiling. 

He doesn't know how long he lies there crying. His body is hot, too hot than what he's used to now and his cock is still twitching and hard against his stomach. 

Dean swallows thickly, curling in on himself. His shoulder cracks under the pressure of his weight. 

Why does this feel so familiar? 


	8. Weeping Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucked something up? Fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It physically pains me to write Castiel's point-of-view.
> 
> I would also like to thank Carrot_Connoisseur for being incredibly sweet and giving me feedback on this fic!

The pain that Castiel is feeling is barbaric. 

It starts out in his stomach, swirling and making friends with the acid and courses in his blood like an infection that makes him retch onto the industrial flooring, then finally comes out through his throat in a wild yell that burns his oropharynx. 

It's his heart, maybe, he thinks. There's something wrong with it; it's broken. The pieces have scattered around his inner intestines and punctured every organ.

Maybe it's his grace; tainted black with shame and rejecting the vessel that Dean has become so accustomed to. 

Castiel doesn't know how to make it stop. But he also doesn't deserve to let it end.

He raped Dean. A fresh wave of bitterness washes over him.

He _raped_ Dean, the person he was meant to protect. The person he was meant to _love._ Castiel collapses to his knees, no regard for the sickening crackthat vibrates his body against cold, industrialized flooring. 

Old blood stains the floors and the smell of excrete is somehow still potent in the air.

Why is he here? 

Castiel slides his hands over the wings burned onto the ground. He sucks in a breath, nearly vomiting over the marks of his fallen brother and he curls his fingers into a first, nails scratching the floor and leaving blood in their wake. 

_Are we the same?_ He stares down at the wings, waiting for a response. Unsurprisingly, they don't speak but Castiel knows the answer.

He is exactly like Lucifer. 

Demoralized. Infected. 

How could he do that? How could he hold Dean down and shove his cock inside of him? He's protected Dean from everything he could; from Mary, from Michael so how could he be a potential threat to Dean's happiness? 

He should've left Dean alone when he left the bar, he should've went somewhere, _anywhere_. 

Castiel lies down in the center on the wings, curled into fetal position. Somewhere, deep down inside of him, he knows that Angels don't act like this. Angels don't get _sick_ like this. 

A dark cloud is constantly above him, there's time where it pours or thunders and it only makes Castiel feel worse. It makes him curl into bed and try to forget everything that happened to him. It makes him forget to eat and shower and talk to people. 

It's continuous and hurts him without laying a hand on his person. 

Castiel turns on the frigid floor, the metal on his wings clang loudly and ring from the ground to every nerve ending in his body.

What is he supposed to do now? He can't make his body move and his breathing has gone ragged and shallow. His hands go clammy and a cold sweat breaks out on his body. 

He's dying, that has to be the only truth. He _is dying._

Castiel brings a tentative hand up to his lips, his fingers ghost along the chapped muscle; _"Chapstick? Your lips are fine, Cas. T-they're soft and I like them or whatever."_

The hand slides down to his throat; _"I like making hickeys on you. It means you're mine...I'm not jealous! All I'm saying is Cain was totally flirting with you, Cas!"_

His stomach; _"One day," Dean had whispered as they stared at the gentle, rippling water. "I want to see all of you...because I love you, Angel."_

His thighs; _"You could be a runner with these. Sweet Jesus...yes, I know Jesus isn't sweet, Cas."_

Castiel jolts when he brings his hand back up to cup his crotch. Hot tears slide across his nose and pool underneath his cheek. 

_"C-Cas," Castiel peered at Dean curiously from under his eyelashes. Dean gave him a small smile and brushed Castiel's hair back with his hand. "Love you."_

"Dean," Castiel whispers shakily, voice cracking as his vocal cords work. 

Every bone in his body yearns to go back to Dean. The need makes his toes curl in his boots and his heart stutter. 

"It's okay to be scared," Gabriel says. His landing is so soft that Castiel can't hear the flutter of his 140 wings, or maybe Castiel is hallucinating.

Castiel blinks slowly, staring at the rolling dust bunnies.

"It's okay to hurt," he lays a hand on Castiel's arm. 

"But you don't get to choose." Gabriel's voice tightens. "Dean came to me and he begged me to find you, he fell at my feet and _begged,_ Castiel." 

_I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I'm scared, Gabriel._

"I know. It's new, it's different and it's not us. We aren't used to it but you don't get to choose when you want to be there for Dean. You are both hurting and you both need each other. But Dean can't fly away like you can! He wants you. What do you want?" 

Gabriel turns Castiel's head and stares at him, his eyes shining gold to sync with Castiel's blue. "Do you want Dean? Do you want to protect him? What– _What do you want?"_

_Dean. I want Dean._

"Then go fix it, Cassie." Gabriel nudges his wings firmly. 

Gabriel who eats one too many sweets and makes lewd jokes about anything and everything, is giving Castiel advice. Human advice. _Relationship_ advice.

Since when did he become the more mature brother? 

The flight back is heavy. Even though he came to the conclusion that he still needs Dean, what will his human say? What will he do? 

Droplets hit Castiel's wings, his nose, and his eyes and the cuffs as he twists and turns in the sky. He breathes in the rainfall air while thinking of Dean.

He thinks of Dean's green orbs, his hair, his bow legs, his laugh, smile, and tears. It's scary how much Dean invades his senses, his spirit. 

Castiel's landing is rocky; he staggers, feet scuffing against the roots of trees and body knocking against sturdy trees. His back arches as he retracts his wings allowing the cuffs to scrape against the open wounds, making them stretch. 

Dean sits cross-legged on the cliff, not paying any mind to heavy drizzle falling above him or to the fact that his clothes have stuck wet and heavy against his body.

They have memories here, is that why Dean isn't leaving? Is Dean thinking about how it would be if Castiel was stronger? If he wasn't so sick and weak?

Castiel holds his breath while he stares at Dean's back. 

"I think that if I turn around to look at you I might throw up." Dean says so quietly that Castiel almost can't hear him over the rain. 

"You left, you fucked up and that's on you. However you felt when you spread your wings and left is on _you._ You didn't have to pin me down to make a point, I'm yours, Cas. But I can't be in this with you if you aren't in it with me." Dean turns his head slightly, piercing Castiel through his heart with his burning forest. 

Castiel's steps are slow and calculated as he comes to sit next to Dean and carefully curls his fingers around Dean's palm. Dean tightens the grip and leans against Castiel's shoulder.

"Were you going to tell me that you've been skipping therapy? Donna says you only go once a week when it's supposed to be twice." 

He doesn't like going, Donna wants him to talk more about what Lucifer did and his feelings and his level of distress but he's an Angel. He doesn't have a level of distress, he _can't._

"It's taken me a long time to become like this: to breathe when I'm feeling like my lungs won't work, to find sensory objects when I'm panicking, to talk. You act like the me from a couple months ago and I can't date another me, Cas." 

They're breaking up? Dean is–Castiel's heart lurches–Dean is breaking up with him? 

"I don't know anything about you and we got into this too fast, I just–Castiel, you have to go to therapy. You have to face the bad and the ugly and you have to get better for you, and if not for you then for me." 

Castiel blinks back his tears and a small, whimpering sound escapes from his throat. He's sorry, he's so sorry. 

"Cas," Dean brushes their noses together and kisses Castiel softly. "Don't make me lose you too." 

Castiel cups each side of Dean's face and deepens the kiss, everything is slippery and cold but Dean's mouth is warm and makes Castiel's insides stir. 

Touch. He wants to touch Dean all over, Gods, it's like a kaleidoscope opens in his chest whenever he breathes in the very being that is Dean Winchester.

Castiel lays Dean down on the wet grass and pops open the button on Dean's jeans. 

_I love you_ , he wants to say when Dean grips his dampened sleeves as he wraps a hand around Dean's cock. 

_I love you_ , he wants to breathe on Dean's bruised skin when Dean's voice hitches and his back arches as Castiel thumbs over his slit. 

_I love you_ , he wants to take Dean apart and etch the words onto his bones as he slides his hand down further and uses his grace to open Dean up and slide two fingers in. 

_I love you_ , as Dean's hips roll and his eyes flutter when the tips of Castiel's fingers find his prostate.

 _I love you_ , as Dean pulls Castiel in for a searing kiss and fucks back against his fingers. 

_I would do anything for you_ , as Dean cries out his orgasm and twitches against the grass. 

Castiel can't tell if it's the rain or his tears that hit Dean's shirt but his tears and thick and hot against his cheeks and Dean cradles Castiel's head against his chest.

"Tell me you'll start going, please." 

Castiel nods against Dean's chest before he stops and presses his ear harder to listen to his heartbeat. 

_There's so much to tell you,_ Castiel thinks to himself, _would you still love me then? I'm cursed. Faulty. Would you still need me like I need you?_

Castiel closes his eyes tightly. They'll get to that point when it comes. 

* * *

"Castiel," Donna nods kindly with a wide, gummy smile. 

After the two got home, Dean explained how things would be different between them. They wouldn't have sex for a while, they could kiss and go on dates because Dean wants to get to know Castiel even though he's nothing. 

He is a weak excuse of an Angel and an even weaker excuse of a human, therefore, he is nothing. He is a particle, a dismal atom, in a vast, open world. 

It's not ideal. Castiel lives to touch Dean, he lives to serve Dean and there's nothing wrong with him anyway. But it's fine, if Dean wants Castiel to do this so they can get back together then he'll do it. 

Castiel is slow when taking his seat on the couch and his cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

Donna settles in her chair and clicks her pen, "On a scale from one to ten, how high is your distress?" 

_"I can't date another me, Cas."_

Castiel rubs his sweaty palms on the knees of his pants and exhales shakily. 

"Ten." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sap for the dramatics and destiel quotes.


	9. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean looks beautiful like this. 
> 
> All smiles and golden lights decorating his face perfectly. 
> 
> Castiel's throat and pants tighten. 
> 
> _Marry me,_ he thinks. _Marry me, Dean Winchester._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's point-of-view in the first half then Castiel's later on.
> 
> Also! I am not religious whatsoever! I hope not to offend anybody later on in the chapter.

Perspiration gathers under Dean's armpits, a prickling, itching sensation between thick hair makes him twitch and jerk his arms closed by his ribs. Dean shoves his face into a pillow, swallowing thickly a few times to push down the spew rising in his throat and ridding it of dryness. His nose is clogged from last night's snot and his eyes are swollen from tears. 

Dean slides his hand over to the unoccupied space beside him and bundles the frigid sheets in his sweaty hand while his face stays buried in the pillow.

It was to be expected, of course. Castiel's side of the bed has been empty for three weeks now, the linen is cold and now smells of laundry detergent instead of oncoming rain and ginger honey.

Dean turns over onto his back, the cool air has his nipples hardening and sweat turning sticky from where it tingles between his thighs and underneath the curve of his back. Dean brings his hand to scratch at marred skin, its presence an annoyance like a swollen mosquito bite that won't ever go away, and tears gather in his eyes as he sinks his nails into it.

Dean knows how to be lonely. He's been a side character in his own life for years now so he knows how to deal with feeling invisible and how to deal with feeling outside of himself. He's painfully aware of how easy it would be to get into that rhythm again but he can't and it's Cas' fault. Cas came into Dean's life and fucking _worshiped_ him and now Dean doesn't know how to be invisible anymore. 

Dean rolls onto his side trying to loosen the feel of how heavy his sternum feels on his heart. There's something about not having Castiel near him that feels as if Castiel stripped his soul bare and let it hang out in the open for all the other Angels to enjoy. 

It's silly, if Dean's being honest. He shouldn't be this stuck over some Angel who treats him–Dean flinches at the hot tear that drops onto his nose–who treats him like he's a goddamn rarity. His brain supplies what Donna explained as a "thinking mistake" and how he feels isn't categorized as should or shouldn't but the wires in his brain are submerged underwater so all of Donna's "thinking mistakes" can go to hell.

'Moon Discovery', a haunting alarm sound that Castiel enjoys, blares from his phone and Dean jerks up from his laying position and thumbs at his phone blindly to turn off the alarm. His heart pounds in his chest and the room tilts sideways. Dean falls back on the mattress and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Sam and Gabriel's wedding is today. 

"Shit," Dean kicks off the sheets and scrubs angrily at his face. _"Shit."_ Dean runs his hand through his hair then sways on his feet as he rises to get his suit from the closet–Castiel's own no longer there–along with a fresh pair of underwear and his toothbrush. He can shower at Sam's before they have to leave for photos. Dean shoves his feet in a pair of slippers then glances at the bed once before shaking his head and leaving.

The walk to Sam's house is nerve-wracking. He's walking across town in pajamas alone with eco-friendly wrapping surrounding his suit that's underneath his armpit. With each step he takes his knees wobble and the suffocating fat around his heart thickens. 

Today isn't about him. It's Sam's day and he promised himself he would be better, he _is_ better. He just misses Castiel and it's okay to miss someone who means so much to him, he can deal with it. 

"Sammy!" Dean taps his knuckles on the large oak door then pushes inside once he hears his brother's responding shout. 

Charlie stands over Sam, who's sat in a chair with a mirror in front of him, in the middle of the living room with bobby pins in her mouth as she styles Sam's hair. Flowers, articles of clothing, and makeup scatter on the couches and floor. 

Dean lets out a low whistle. "Lookin' good, Samantha." 

Charlie flips him off half-heartedly then continues to put daisies in the hair loop at the back of Sam's head. Dean reaches to squeeze Sam's hand reassuringly. 

"You're all grown up now huh, Sammy? I got everything worked out so don't stress out about much today." Sam chuckles breathily and his cheeks go a little red. 

Dean jerks his thumb up the stairs. "I'm gonna use your shower and then I'll go check on Cassie and see how she's gonna set up outside." 

Sam gives Dean a small, genuine smile. "Thank you for being here, Dean. Really." 

Dean ignores the burning in his eyes and nods stiffly before climbing up the stairs to the guest room. He holds his toothbrush in his mouth as he sets his suit on the bed then pads to the bathroom. By the time he's in the shower his body is loose and lazy and the pressure on his bladder–that he's just noticing– releases onto the tiled shower floor. 

Dean scrubs himself clean of sweat and urine, using the water pressure to align his mindset. This is Sam's wedding, he needs to keep his brother happy. He can do this. He _will_ do this. 

Deeming himself clean of soap suds, Dean turns off the shower and wraps his waist in a fluffy, red towel. Dean stares at himself in the mirror, fingers clutching around the marble counter, before he shakes his head and brushes his teeth. 

Breath no longer stinking off the previous night's cereal, Dean makes his way back to the hall.

A noise, something mixed between a growl and a groan, makes his ears twitch and his head turn down the hall. His body tenses, his heartbeats painfully loud in his ears before it's drowned out by Dean's hyper focus on the cerulean eyes that stare back at him.

Castiel's eyes roam Dean's dripping body and seemingly darken.

How is it possible that Castiel looks even better than the last time Dean saw him? The Seraph's skin has healthier glow than before; his hair is slicked back; his suit is pressed neatly and the black, wool fabric makes his body look more lean and tight–Dean's eyes flicker down to his slacks and quirks his eyebrows, tight everywhere it seems–His dark blue tie is on backwards and Dean can't help but take a step forward with the intention of fixing it. 

Castiel's hands flex by his sides and he stalks towards Dean with intent. Dean's eyes widen and he immediately backs up with each step Castiel takes which ultimately leads them towards the guest room where Dean's naked thighs hit the edge of the bed.

Castiel continues his path of determination causing Dean to sit back against the bed. Castiel lifts the other's legs up and over his shoulders and makes a pained groan. Dean's towel is now bunched at his hips and his cheeks could be used to bake cookies on. 

Castiel's movements are hurried; he works the button of his slacks open while running his tongue over Dean's nipples, playing with the swelling nubs until they're puffy and red and Dean's thighs are shaking. Castiel pulls Dean closer to the edge of the bed and nudges his cock against Dean's hole as he continues to blemish Dean's skin in teeth marks.

"S-stop– _oh fuck–_ stop!" Dean tries to twist his body away but the grip that Castiel has on his hips makes something inside of him heavy and sated so his movement is sluggish.

Castiel looks at Dean, his lips tinged red from the blood currently lazily oozing from the bite on Dean's inner thigh. Castiel leans forward moving his hands so they rest of both sides of Dean's head and brushes their noses together.

"One minute," Castiel mumbles. "Stay with me for one minute." 

Dean covers his eyes with the crook of his elbow and tenses then relaxes his fist. Castiel is speaking to him. Castiel is trying to _fuck him,_ Jesus.

"It's their wedding." he whispers.

"I need you." Castiel kisses below Dean's ear.

"You left me alone for three weeks. Fuck you." Dean's voice breaks and he feels stupid for being upset about three measly weeks but it was quiet, empty even. Dean is done of dealing with everything being empty. 

"I can't control myself around you. I had to leave." Castiel explains into Dean's neck where he sucks on the sensitive skin.

"You could've texted or something! I was lost w-without you, I was _lonely_ without you." 

"I couldn't. Look at me, Dean. _I couldn't._ I was lonely without you too, I–Gods, you're beautiful." Castiel growls and catches Dean's lips in a fierce kiss.

Dean melts into it. His heart, body, and soul sing in harmony and he sighs into the kiss. Castiel's hands are firm and grounding from where they dance along his sides. Dean slides his arms around Castiel's neck to pull Castiel closer. 

His tearducts seem to have it out for him because they cause water to pool behind his closed eyelids then slide down his cheeks and mix between their lips.

Castiel pulls away to press wet kisses at Dean's eyes and cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby." 

"D-daddy," Dean chokes out, tightening his legs around Castiel's waist. Both their erections hard and leaking; Dean's precum sticks to his belly while Castiel's smears against Dean's hole.

Castiel rests his forehead on Dean's. "I'm in it with you, Dean." 

Dean sniffles, tears slowing down and gasping breaths slowing to small hiccups. 

"It was never my intention to hurt you, sweetheart. You wanted me to start going to therapy but you are my biggest distraction so I needed to go away, I should have texted and for that I apologize." 

"I-it hurt, I coulda died or s-somethin'." It did and he couldn't have but without Castiel around it sure as hell felt like it. He's too old to be acting like this–is this how people in love act?

"I wouldn't have let you. I missed you so much." Castiel uses his thumbs to wipe away Dean's tears. Dean presses up into Castiel's hand and sniffles.

"If it is amenable for you, I would like to court you." Castiel looks determinedly into Dean's eyes and Dean blinks at him.

"Like with flowers and dates and shit?" 

Castiel nods, his cheeks a little pink. "Angel courting." 

"Court away, Cas." Dean chuckles wetly then pats Castiel's shoulder. "I have to get changed." 

Castiel looks down between them, sighs, then backs away to tuck his, very hard, very angry, cock back into his dress pants.

"Why are you here?" Dean asks, nose still warm and stuffy as he sits up and begins to undo Castiel's tie. 

"Forgot my trenchcoat." Castiel mumbles, distracted. He ducks down to nibble Dean's jaw. Dean frowns, Castiel has been sleeping here? Tucking Castiel's fixed tie behind the closed button of his suit, Dean hums. 

"Can we talk later about everything? I mean, no pressure, you just–I never heard you talk this much and it seems like you made so much progress." _without me,_ Dean muses sadly.

"Of course, beloved." Castiel's eyes rank over Dean's figure once more before he presses a soft kiss, a great contrast to the one before, to Dean's lips and leaving the room.

Dean falls back against the bed, his cock half hard against his thigh and brain buzzing with half formed thoughts.

He's a crazy person. A literal crazy person who belongs to the loony bin. How can Castiel do that to him? How can he make Dean feel relieved and safe by simply touching him? 

Dean towels off the rest of his body in a daze. He stops midway, eyebrows pinched together. 

What the hell is Angel courting? 

* * *

It's enough to make Dean tear up. Sam dressed neatly in his white suit that contrasts beautifully against Gabriel's black one. Their hands are joined together in union and the pastor, an Angel that goes by the name Sister Jo, stands between them with a bible opened on her palms.

The sun stands high and bright, shining on everyone equally and making their exchange of vows all the more elegant. Flowers, that dance with the wind, decorate the white archway above the two. Everyone else, people who Dean considers _family,_ sits on steady white chairs, some sniffling and others smiling. 

"Do you, Sam Winchester, take Gabriel Novak as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

Dean's eyes flicker to Castiel's.

"I do." 

"And do you, Gabriel Novak, take Sam Winchester as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

Castiel's cheeks go a little pink and his eyes stay trained on Dean. 

"I do." 

After Sister Jo blesses both the rings, Sam and Gabriel make their way back down the aisle with people cheering them on or throwing bouquets at them. Dean and Castiel make eye contact once more before they go they get dragged their separate ways to go to the other venue. 

* * *

Castiel's feet hurt. He's been stripped of his wings and tortured but yes, his feet hurt from standing and talking too one to many people, none of which is Dean. Castiel sips the fuzzy champagne that pops on his tongue and nods along with whatever Garth is yapping in his ear. 

"So are you plannin' on marryin' Dean-o next?" Garth asks, completely obvious to Castiel choking on his drink with his eyes wide. 

"Excuse me?" Castiel rasps. Garth shrugs and gestures with his beer to Dean, who's dancing with Rowena.

"Are you gonna pop the big question?" Castiel watches Dean throw his head back while laughing and his heart skips a beat. 

"Maybe." Castiel whispers then sets his drink on the table before walking over to Dean and Rowena. 

"Is it okay if I take him from you, Rowena?" Castiel smiles easily and Rowena quirks her eyebrows.

"No funny business on the dance floor and Dean, remember what I told you about the handcuffs." her accent has thickened from the few drinks in her system but she seems fine as she takes another one and leaves.

Castiel rests one hand on Dean's waist then holds Dean's with the other. Even though it's dark and they only have the fairy lights that hang above them, Castiel can make out the hickeys he left on Dean earlier hiding just below the collar. 

Castiel sways them side to side slowly while staring into Dean's eyes. 

Dean looks beautiful like this; all crinkly eyes that comes with his wide smile with a golden hue decorating his face perfectly while they dance on the beach, under the cliff where they first kissed. Castiel's throat and pants tighten.

 _Marry me,_ he thinks. _Marry me, Dean Winchester._

"I love you." he settles on instead, because it's too soon for them. He wants to do this correctly. He wants to show Dean how much he's changed. 

"I love you too." Dean's reply is instant and soft spoken. 

"I'm sorry I didn't text or call. It was wrong of me." Castiel whispers, turning Dean so his back is pressed against Castiel's chest. They dance sway slower and Castiel presses a kiss to Dean's ear. 

"It's okay, daddy." Dean's voice is a little slurred and his eyes seem a little hazy. Maybe this is the subspace he researched. Or maybe Dean has had way too many fuzzy drinks.

Castiel's scared. He thinks he'll always be scared when it comes to Dean, when it comes to them, but that's fine. Dean is it for him and they didn't need to be made mates for him to know that. That's why he was fearful, that Dean was only with him because of the bond but it's more than that. He knows that now. He imagines that he always knew that. 

Castiel's eyes scan the crowd. They land on Mary, who is talking with Sam animatedly about something and soon his staring turns into a glare. Mary looks over, fear taking over her features for a second before they smooth over into something neutral. 

She begins to walk over. 

"Your mom is coming." Castiel whispers Dean straightens out, suddenly sober, and turns back into Castiel's arms. 

"Dean, it's nice to see you!" Mary smiles and Castiel watches Dean count to five before turning around. 

"Mary." Dean nods and Mary looks between the two. 

"Dean is it alright if I talk to you...alone?" 

Dean stiffens and shakes his head. "No. I'm dancing with my–my boyfriend, so, no. You can't." 

Castiel rubs Dean's left arm softly. "I think it would be best if you left us alone." he warns. He shouldn't have left her alive last time. 

Mary frowns. "Okay. Fine. I'll just say it here then. Is Castiel forcing you into this relationship?" 

"No." Dean bites. "You can't come here and ruin things again–" 

"He was the reason I left, Dean." Mary cuts him off. Dean turns his head to Castiel. 

"She's lying, right?" 

_No. She's not. But I had my reasons Dean, she hurt you I had to do it._ Castiel should say but the words are too much and they're like thumbtacks stuck in his throat.

"Sonovabitch." Dean mutters. He backs from Castiel's arms while staring at him in disbelief. Dean shakes his head before walking down to the other half of the beach. 

"You're not going to get your son back." Castiel glares at Mary and she shrugs. 

"You're not going to get your boyfriend back." Castiel sees Dean's figure get smaller and he swallows the lump in his throat.

If he wants Dean back, he's going to have to talk. 

He's going to have to tell him everything. 

It doesn't take long to catch up to Dean. The sand makes it hard to storm off in wedding shoes and Dean's shaking too much. They're a good distance away from the wedding when Dean turns to him. 

"Yelling at you doesn't solve anything so I'm going to ask you calmly. Were you ever going to tell me about Mary?" 

Castiel looks at the waving tide and shakes his head. 

"Why?" 

Castiel chuckles sadly and tilts his head back. "I couldn't. I wanted to tell you so you would hate me then but I couldn't. If I told you then I would have to talk about me and–" 

"Because that's what people in relationships do!" Dean yells. 

Castiel sighs. So much for the not yelling part.

"I wanted to protect you. I _did_ protect you." 

"You fucked with my life and then acted as if you didn't!" 

"She was harmful, dangerous–"

"You're harmful! You're fuckin' dangerous! Your entire kind is–" 

"Don't." 

"You lied to me!" 

"I just didn't say anything. It wasn't about you–" 

"It's my life, Cas! Of course it was about you but nooo, you and your stupid need to feel as if I'm some damsel in distress fucked everything!" 

"You were." 

"You don't even know what it's like to feel like I did!" 

Castiel closes his eyes tightly. 

"My brother sodomized me with an Angel Blade while I was in the vessel of a ten-year-old boy." 

Dean's heavy pants slow down. 

"Every parent has favorites. I was my father's and I paid for it and I didn't want you–" Castiel sighs and sits down on the sand.

"Sam was Mary's favorite before he was born. When you were born, your power level was high to accommodate Michael like it has been written in the books and she knew you were Michael's. Her intention was to sell you to the highest bidder once you turned sixteen so she allowed Angels to touch your soul. To see if you were worth it. If you were gone then she wouldn't have to worry about Sam being tainted. When he was–when he had the blade inside me and she bared your soul it felt as if I had been ripped apart. You didn't have my mark at the time so I couldn't stop it. When Lucifer finally stopped I used the energy I had to get inside her subconscious and force her to leave you." 

Castiel wants to throw up. His throat is dry and his head is pounding and he hates talking. He hates it and now Dean is going to leave him because he's broken, he's damaged. 

Dean sits down next to him. "Is Lucifer the one who took your wings?" 

Castiel nods. 

"I'm–" 

"I don't want an apology." Castiel mumbles, watching as the sun meets the water. "You said what you said. It's fine." 

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" 

Castiel's eyes water. "I really want to marry you even if you might hate me." 

"I don't hate you, Cas. I'm angry but I should know better than anyone that talking takes time and me dumping shit on you that will make you feel worse isn't the way to go." Dean squeezes Castiel's knee. "I love you, dude." 

"Did you just 'dude' me?" 

"Yeah, sorry." Dean chuckles, leaning his head against Castiel's shoulder. "You want to get married?" 

"I want to court you first." 

Dean hums. "I want a house. And kids. I'm too old to be living in a hotel." 

"Thirty-one isn't old." 

Dean makes an annoyed sound and huffs. 

"We're fucked up." Dean mumbles after a while. 

"Yeah." 

"We can be fucked up together." 

Castiel snorts and kisses Dean's cheek. 

"With a house and kids." Castiel says fondly.

Dean gives Castiel a chaste kiss on the lips. 

"With a house and kids." Dean agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my tardiness in updating! I was working on another fic which has been published! 
> 
> It's called "Leviathan Blossom" and I hope you guys check it out.


	10. Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stares into Dean's eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter and I am so so so grateful for everyone leaving kudos and comments! It really warms my heart to see people enjoying this fic! 
> 
> You guys are amazing!
> 
> timeskip: one year then thirteen months and there is a pov change  
> Also some implied mpreg because I have no shame.  
> Posted at one in the morning and not read over
> 
> [This Beautiful Artwork Inspired This Entire Story!](https://destiel-fanart-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/post/182876303709/a-little-bit-more-destiel-than-before-i-dont)

It's tranquility, Dean suspects. 

His toes are buried in heavy, warm sand and the blue tides wave to him lazily; the sun is blocked by thick, pink-hued clouds but its light shines through tiny holes that the cloud can't cover; he gets a little chill from the transitioning summer into autumn wind; his jeans are cuffed up to his calves and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows; his heart beats lazily inside his chest and his stomach is full from the pizza that he had ordered earlier. He isn't sure what this feeling is, he's never experienced such calmness before. Such quietness. His body is at ease and if he had to guess of a word in the English language then he assumes that's the one.

He hears the seagulls more than he can see them but it just adds to the peace. His fingers brush over the handcuff covering his right wrist absently while he thinks. 

It's been a year and two months since he came to Poughkeepsie; almost a year since he started dating Castiel and he feels–shit, he doesn't even know.

It seems anticlimactic, Dean supposes. The year had been hell between coming to Poughkeepsie, therapy, his mother, controlling his grace, and having to be more open with Castiel just to end up sitting somewhere quiet and breathing in the ocean air. In the end, it was all worth it. After all, he can sit on the beach, alone in his own head without having too many invasive thoughts. He can allow himself to simply think. 

Therapy had been, and still is, terrible. Dean means in a good way, however. Donna is calm and patient with him but stubborn and pushy when need be. Dean still struggles with self-image and thoughts of self-loathing or self-harm but he knew from early on that they would always be there regardless of how much therapy he went to. He is able to be more descriptive when it comes to his feelings, and yeah, he still has bad days. He still snaps at anyone who decides to talk to him whenever they want to know what's wrong, he still ignores Castiel for hours, sometimes days, when they Angel comes forth with another secret he kept from Dean. But it's not as much as before, nowadays he can be level-headed and understanding. 

Dean runs a finger over the row of cuts on his forearm.

The _one_ time he couldn't handle it led to his relapse. He doesn't even remember what he had exploded about, everything had been too much and there wasn't space for him to breathe even though he's 99% sure he was outside. He doesn't think he'd ever seen Cas so scared before. Donna had reassured him that it happens, that it's okay and he didn't have to go to therapy the day after because _"it's okay to take a break."_ Donna had said while he was in the hospital for evaluation.

Dean got up the next day. 

It had been difficult, of course, but Dean wanted to. He wanted to prove it to himself even though he still isn't sure what 'it' is yet. 

Dean's eyes survey the beach and he can't help but remember Sam and Gabriel's wedding. A beautiful day it had been; he was able to see his little brother get _married._ He got healthy enough to see that happen. _Jesus_ , Dean sighs. He _did that._

His mind can't help but wander to Mary. After the whole "Favoritism Incident" as Dean calls it in his trauma narrative, he hadn't really thought about confronting her. He hoped it was something he could avoid doing but Donna talked to him about avoidance more than once which made him feel guilty enough to do it. 

The talk was as bad as Dean had suspected.

Mary tried to lie, defend herself as if she wasn't in the wrong but when Dean decided to share his side of the story, Mary's facade dropped. She admitted her wrongdoings but still painted Cas as the monster.

When Dean told Castiel about what Mary had said, the Angel had been suspiciously calm the entire day but when nightfall came–Dean's cheeks flush at the memory.

* * *

_"Clothes off." Castiel grumbled lowly. Dean stared at his boyfriend in confusion, looking up at him from over the mug of tea Castiel had made him drink in order to sleep better._

_Castiel unbuckled his belt in haste and popped open the button of his pants. He glared at Dean who was still staring in awe. Castiel took two large steps forward and hissed in Dean's ear._

_"Now."_

* * *

Dean remembers how smug Castiel was when they sat at the breakfast bar of the hotel and watched Mary check out the hotel with Charlie's aid.

The wedding had also allowed Dean to get the key to the handcuffs from Rowena, an absolute ruthless but kindhearted witch who trained Dean as well as Sam. Controlling his magic had been relatively easy after he started learning how to keep his focus. It was like working on a car and focusing on specific parts. A childish analogy but it works for Dean. 

Dean's left arm tingles and before he has the chance to look up from the sand, a rolled up blue paper is tapped on his nose. Dean's eyes cross to stare at the paper before his eyes roll up to look at Castiel. Cas smiles down at his lover and sits down on the grainy sand next to him, bringing a hand to gently grip the back of Dean's neck as a grounding gesture. 

"Hello, beloved." Cas mummers, pressing a sweet kiss to Dean's lips. Dean's insides squirm and he feels a little nauseous but he smiles and leans against Castiel. 

"Hi, Daddy." Dean says, voice a little airy and soft around the edges. Dean calling Castiel "Daddy" is something they've discussed at length, multiple times, most of which ended with them in bed. 

It wasn't always sexual, they've realized. Dean mostly says it when he's in a hazy state of mind or when he's happy and sated. It happens more often than not which is why they've set rules and have safewords. 

It's why they have the collar. A dark green thing with dark fur lining on the inside and a gold buckle to fasten it in place.

Daddy presses a kiss to Dean's eyelid and hands him the rubber band wrapped roll. 

"What is it?" Dean asks, already sliding off the band without waiting for Daddy's response. Dean's vision is soon filled with white rectangles, arrows, scribbled writing, and mapped out floor plans. 

It's a house. 

Dean turns his head to look at Daddy with wide eyes.

"We're ready?" Dean asks, voice watery.

Daddy nods his head. "We're ready." 

They decided months ago, days after the wedding that it would be best for both of them to finish trauma therapy first then build the house. Dean was first to finish, he still goes for check-ins or he schedules an appointment when he doesn't feel right. But Castiel's past is more loaded then Dean's, his appointed time of finishing took longer than twelve months.

There was also the issue with the hotel. Castiel had grown attached from the place he built from the ground up but Dean convinced Castiel that once they moved out the hotel it wouldn't go anywhere and Castiel would still be its owner. It took a lot of pleading (and blowjobs, Dean's jaw aches at the memory) but eventually Castiel decided that maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if he moved out of the hotel. Then, they only had to wait.

Some days the two would stay up envisioning their house. How many bedrooms would it have? Would the kids nursery be closer to their room or further away? Would they build it by hand or have someone else do it? Dean remembers them writing down their plans on the back of a Lucky Charms box at three in the morning. 

Money wouldn't be a problem seeing as Dean was having a steady income as the owner of Bobby's Autoshop, since the old coot retired, well known to tourists and Castiel had a large sum of savings from the hotel.

 _Fuck_. They're ready. 

Dean tackles Daddy into the sand with loud laughter and attacks his face with kisses. Daddy laughs along with him and captures Dean's lips in a heated kiss. Dean pulls back just slightly and his heart skips a beat. Daddy's eyes are shining and his face is covered in a golden, pink hue that the sun and clouds give off. 

Dean leans down to press a more slow, more sensual kiss to Daddy's lips. Daddy hums into it and his hands slide down to cup Dean's ass. 

"I love you, Daddy." Dean whispers, his cheeks a little red and his grace humming loudly in his body.

"I love you too." Daddy rumbles, kneading the fat in his hands. Dean exhales shakily and buries his face in Daddy's neck. He's too old to be this lovesick.

"Goin' shy on me, baby?" Daddy asks kindly. Dean squirms and nods. He likes when Daddy gets like this, all deep rumbles that make Dean's chest vibrate and his heart stutter. Daddy doesn't talk like this often, sometimes he has bad days and doesn't talk at all or grunts out a couple of sentences. Now, filthy words roll of Daddy's tongue like it's his job. 

"We can't do this here." Daddy shifts, trying to get up but Dean puts more of his weight down and shakes his head.

"We don't have to have sex, we can do it like this." Dean mumbles into Daddy's shoulder, his mind going dizzy with lust. Daddy pinches Dean roughly, eliciting a soft whimper from him. 

"Don't be a brat." he chastises but settles down on the sand and watches Dean. "Go on." 

Dean puts his hand on Daddy's chest to steady himself and rocks his hips slowly. Dean shudders as his cock rocks against the front of his zipper and Daddy's cock begins to thicken and press between his cheeks. 

Never in a million years would Dean think he deserved this; comfort, security, and love. It's never been an option for Dean, not with the life he lived, back then Dean could probably count how many times he showered in a month on one hand. He wouldn't be able to count how many people he let use him; it's probably somewhere teetering into the hundreds. Now, Dean actually gets up to eat and brush his teeth and go to work and, well, live. 

Daddy's hands grips his hips to maneuver them more leisurely. Dean's toes curl in the sand and his back arches. A heavy weight pools at the bottom of his stomach and he can feel his cock twitch in his jeans. 

"Daddy!" Dean gasps, hips jerking erratically as he comes.

"So good, beloved." Daddy runs a hand through Dean's hair and Dean twitches again, the damp stain of the front of his pants darkening. Everything Dean hears is muffled and his mind is blank so he lays down on Castiel's chest while rocking his hips slowly. 

The blurred edges of his vision clear and he can feel Castiel running a hand up and down his back soothingly. 

"Cas," Dean rasps lowly. Castiel makes a noise of acknowledgement. 

"Cas," Dean says again like it's the only name he knows then he says his previous words like he can't believe it. "We're ready." 

Castiel's hand stills and he chuckles. "We're ready, honey." 

* * *

It doesn't take long for them to get started on the house. Benny ships in some fancy wood from out the country and Garth helps them haul it past towering trees and dump it on the cliffside; Charlie helps to find the perfect grill for them; Sam and Gabriel help create the foundation. There's shouts and laughs and tears and _happiness._

It's all too sappy and romantic for Dean's liking but Castiel is calling the shots on this one so Dean doesn't have the space to complain.

It takes them two months of arguing and forgiving for them to have a firm foundation of the house, then a month to install plumbing and electricity, and another month for insulation. All in all, it takes them thirteen months to finish their four bedroom house. 

Dean collapses on the floor, sweaty and exhausted after putting up their final piece of furniture; a king sized bed with too many pillows and heavy comforters. Their big, wide windows with opened curtains tell them both that the sky has darkened and the stars have come out to say hi. 

It's homey. It's _home._

Their décor is a comforting mixture of white and cream with either mint green or cobalt décor for a pop of color. Their kitchen had to be the most expensive part of the house seeing as Castiel was very determined to cook. 

_"For the kids, Dean."_ he had said. 

The other rooms are carefully blank so anyone who goes inside them can have an empty canvas to fill which was Dean's idea. (The only one Castiel approved of.) 

Dean groans into the freshly vacuumed carpet and nuzzles his face into it. 

"I'm gonna sleep right here." he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed but blink open when Castiel clears his throat nervously and stands above Dean while shifting on his feet.

Castiel has been tiptoeing around him for a couple months now, he was still showering Dean in courting gifts like panties that Dean has always been too shy to buy for himself or driving out of the province for the hell of it. Their courting had been cheesy and embarrassing and Dean fell in love with Castiel a little more each time the Angel had planned something special for them. 

The thought has Dean idlily playing with the gold band around his finger while he waits for Castiel to speak.

* * *

_"Close your eyes." Dean made a noise of surprise at the silk blind fold covering his eyes when he tried to look out the windshield of Baby and he jerked, a little afraid._

_"You don't tell someone to cover their eyes and then cover their eyes." Dean bit out, relaxing at the soft press of lips against the back of his neck. They had driven out of Québec and had a road trip to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls for their twelfth courting date. It was a long trip full of fatty foods like poutine, funnel cakes, and fancy fruit concoctions._

_It was late at night though and Castiel had dragged Dean out of their (yes, Dean officially gave Castiel permission to call Baby theirs.) car after driving Dean wherever the fuck they were and the summer wind had him sweating in awkward places even if the wind was cool._

_Castiel chuckled fondly and guided Dean past crunchy leaves and twigs before stopping Dean firmly in his place then untying the blindfold._

_It was stars._

_Stars that shone so brightly it made Dean's eyes hurt and he almost forgot to appreciate it. He stood on the tip of a sloped hill, grass swayed lazily against the wind and the stars were so close that Dean thinks he could see them twinkle._

_"I love you." Castiel mummered, shy and quiet. Dean turned around to see Castiel on one knee holding out a simple, gold yet engraved ring with a flush on his cheeks. "It is human tradition to propose. So, um, Dean Winchester–"_

_Dean felt vomit rise in his throat and tears rim his eyes and before Castiel could even finish his sentence Dean already knew his answer._

_"Yes," he said around thick saliva and nodded frantically. "Yes!"_

* * *

Castiel clears his throat again then sits on their newly made bed and pats the spot next to him. Dean frowns a little but gets up to sit next to his fiancé. He reaches over to squeeze Castiel's hand reassuringly. 

"You alright?" 

Castiel swallows and nods but stares down at the floor and doesn't speak.

It happens a lot, Cas still has problems with speaking when it comes to serious topics or if they're talking for too long then he'll sometimes shut down. Dean knows to wait until Cas is ready to speak again or they wrap it up for the day and speak with sticky notes instead. Sometimes his sentences are broken when he doesn't want to say it in full and it's okay. But Castiel seems to be sitting more stiffer than normal and his hand is trembling in Dean's grip. 

"Whatever it is, it's okay." Dean brings Castiel's hand up to kiss it and a few tears drop onto Castiel's sweatpants. Dean cups Castiel's face in his hands and wipes the tears away with his thumb. 

"It's you and me, Cas. What's wrong?" Castiel sniffles and makes a pained noise. 

"I-I want–finish courting." he spits out, sucking in a harsh breath and letting it back out. Dean tries to hide his surprise but can tell he failed at the small, shocked 'oh' he lets out.

The final stages of Angel courting are difficult. It involves baring the soul of an Angel which, essentially, would be their wings. It's why Castiel proposed first instead of finishing the courting. His wings are still a sensitive topic, Dean has only seen them twice even though they've been together for so long. Not that Dean would ever push Castiel into showing him, it's just–

"You had a panic attack last time you tried." Dean says calmly and Castiel nods slowly. 

"Mate. I-I want–cuffs off." 

Dean can almost feel the blood dripping on his face. He remembers the cuffs. 

"Are you sure?" Dean hasn't even helped Castiel with grooming let alone taking the cuffs off permanently. That topic has been glided over anytime one of them tested the waters and brought it up. 

"Please, Dean." Castiel whispers, his whole body shaking and more tears slide down his face. Dean licks his lips and kisses Cas softly. 

"I got you, Cas." Dean guides them to the bathroom and closes the doors for a sense of privacy then they both stand between the sinks and the tub. 

Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, ecstatic, scared. Castiel is trusting him enough with this, to share a different, difficult level of intimacy; it's not fair to do it alone. 

"I can take off my cuffs too. It's not the same but," Dean shrugs and Castiel stares at him with wide eyes. It was a known fear that Dean would lose control if he took off the cuffs. That he would hurt someone again so they never–Dean never wanted to take them off. 

"After. Maybe?" Castiel asks and Dean nods. "After. We can strip together if that would be better."

"Yes. That would–thank you." Castiel exhales. 

They both start with their socks. Sweat covered and a little muddy from transporting stuff outside to inside. 

Then their pants and boxers. Suffocating and damp and Dean whistles obnoxiously and his eyebrows jump. Castiel rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. 

Dean takes off his shirt first. It's wet where the underarms go and smells of dirt and sweat. He stands stark naked while Castiel is still sporting his security. 

Castiel's fingers twitch against his buttons but make no effort to move. 

"I'm sorry–" he starts to say but Dean shakes his head. 

"Don't apologize. Not for this. I'm in it with you, Cas." 

Castiel's eyes go watery again but he stares into Dean's eyes as he unbuttons his shirt. 

It slides off his shoulders and pools with the rest of his clothes and they both stare at each other. Dean's eyes flicker down to Castiel's chest; marred with deep, scaring cuts and as lean as Dean always imagined it would be. 

Dean's heart is about ready to jump out his throat. He always thought about–he never would've guessed that he would be able to see– _fuck._ He's almost embarrassed that he's fully hard. 

"You're beautiful." he whispers. Cas' eyes widen and a flush runs down from his cheeks to his neck. 

"Tub. Can we?" Castiel asks tentatively. Dean reaches over to turn on the faucet. He allows Castiel to get in first once the water is warm, Castiel's back toward the wall so Dean still can't see it. Dean gets him next, hesitant but Castiel reassures him with a small smile. 

Dean can see the stress and worry covering Castiel's features so he leans over, the water sloshes but doesn't go over the rim, and kisses Castiel firmly. His lips taste like honey and coffee and it's a weird combination but Dean is too in love to care about it. 

Dean settles back in his corner of the tub and Castiel closes his eyes before turning around and baring his back to Dean. 

The open wounds are swollen, stretched, and have blood trickling out of it. The edges around them are scabbed; it's colors range from dark red to purple. The stretch is wide enough that Dean can see the movement of bone. Castiel lets out a pained grunt and the peak of feathers exit the wound before the grueling sound of skin tearing reaches Dean's ears and the blood covered wings fully emerge. The cuffs are bloodier than Dean remembers them being, they're also big and clunky and it makes sense why the wounds never heal. Blood swirls with their bathwater, turning it into a deep murky maroon color. 

"Thank you." Dean tells Cas. _Thank you for showing me. For everything._

"Do you still–love, I mean–do you?" Castiel stammers, sounding thick and broken. Dean wraps his arms around Castiel's waist and lays his head on the bloody back. 

"'Course I do." 

"Cursed–I'm _cursed."_

"I'd rather have you. Cursed or not." 

Castiel stays quiet and Dean brushes a finger over the cuff, going nauseous at how fresh the blood is. 

"Can I take them off?" Dean asks. He can see that the cuffs were put on like clamps, squeezed past flesh and bone and–Dean's face pales. Castiel gives one nod, squeezing the edge of the tub. Dean reaches over the rim to grab an article of clothing and pass it to Cas. "You can use it to scream into." 

Castiel bundles it up and bites into it then nods once more. Dean takes a deep breath, reaches up with both of his hands, fingers tucked into the open space, to grasp at the clamps and _pulls._

It's anguish, no, it's agony, Dean thinks. The pain that Castiel must feel and endure is indescribable and Dean's heart squeezes at the exposed bone he can see through the holes in Castiel's wings.

"It's okay. It's okay, you did great, you were fuckin' amazing, Cas." Dean rocks them back and forth in metallic smelling, blood colored water while Castiel sobs loudly into his chest. The clamps lay outside of the tub, some broken and others simply open, seemingly innocent. Dean can still hear Castiel's screams in his ears if he stops talking for a second, the sound makes his heart pound and his toes curl with discomfort. 

"I'm so proud of you. Amazing, beautiful Angel. You did so well." Dean praises until the sun comes up and Castiel is passed out against him. A small humming is coming from Castiel's body which is his grace working to patch up the open holes.

Dean works quietly and quickly to drain the tub and use the detachment to wash off the blood and grime that's on them. Castiel stirs about three times before Dean has him wrapped in bandages, one of those His & His robes and laid on the towel covered bed on his stomach. 

Dean crawls into bed and brushes Castiel's damp hair out of his face. "I love you, Angel." he mummers then kisses his nose softly before sleep takes over. 

* * *

The next day is a blur for Dean. His morning is sluggish and Castiel is still asleep by the time he wakes up so he prepares both of them coffee and leaves for work. Bobby's Autoshop isn't booming with customers but it's enough for Dean to feel steady and grounded. He spends the rest of the day under the hood of multiple cars with grease under his fingernails and the sound of Castiel's screams in his ears. 

When Dean gets home his back his aching and his knees are clicking as he toes off his shoes. He gets some water from the tap before padding to his and Cas' bathroom only to stop in his tracks and gape. 

Castiel stands naked by the bed, fingers twitching with nerves but his back is ramrod straight and there's a flush on his cheeks. There's new bandages wrapped under his armpits and above his hips.

"Hey." Dean breathes out with a small smile. Castiel opens his mouth then it closes again and Dean waits. 

"Mating. C-can we mate now?" Castiel speaks with a slight stutter. Dean sets down his glass on a nearby dresser before walking over to Cas and holding his hands. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I need connection with you. More than before, I mean." Castiel's eyes dart around Dean's face and Dean nods. 

"How we doin' this, buddy?" 

Castiel's nose scrunches but his lips turn upwards. "Your handcuffs would need to come off, we would share grace, essentially." 

Dean backs away to get the key from his nightstand drawer then hands it to Castiel with a grin and puts out his wrists. Castiel eyes Dean up and down the raises his eyebrows. Dean strips down to his birthday suit. He's getting a little déjà vu. 

Castiel kisses both of Dean's wrists as he unlocks the cuffs. They drop to the floor with a clank.

It's dizzying. The rush of power that Dean gets, it tingles in his toes and makes his body lock up and his ass clench and it's revolutionary. He can feel how fast his blood travels through his body; he can see each atom in the air; and each Angels hand that use to touch him vanish; his own saliva tastes of molecules, of simplicity and complexity all at the same time. 

Castiel pulls Dean's body closer, wrapping his arms around the smooth waist, and kisses him. It's slow and languid, their lips move together sensually. Castiel sucks on Dean's bottom lip and swallows the gasp Dean lets out. He pushes in his tongue slowly, intertwining with Dean's and licking the roof of it. Castiel pulls back and lifts Dean's chin with the tip of his finger so he can bend down and suck down the column of his neck. 

Castiel turns them so he can lay Dean back against the bed, "Scoot." Dean uses his heels to push himself up on the bed, body buzzing excitedly. Castiel crawls up the bed to rest his hands on either side of Dean's head; his stomach sliding accidentally on Dean's cock but receiving a hiss and gasp for the movement anyway. Castiel stops short, his scapulars ache and his back is screaming in pain, to admire Dean's eyes shine with grace. Castiel breathes out shakily and ducks down to meet Dean's lips in another kiss. 

His lips shift from Dean's lips to his neck, collarbones, and nipples which he takes his time making swollen and pink. Dean gasps and mewls and digs his nails into Castiel's hair. Castiel sinks his teeth in Dean's hips, cock twitching at the guttural shout Dean lets out, then laps up the blood. Dean's body is already a beautiful red flush with marks of purple and blue that makes Castiel's cock twitch and his soul yearn. Dean whines, high pitched and needy, when Castiel hovers over his cock.

"Daddy, y-your mouth, _please."_

Castiel smirks, pleased that Dean has dipped into his headspace whenever they have sex. He suckles lightly on the glistening tip, running his tongue over the slit teasingly and Dean bucks his hips, allowing his cock to dive further into Castiel's mouth. Castiel pulls back with a glare and Dean fists the sheets roughly. 

"'M sorry daddy, s'good, 'm sorry," Dean breathes, lips red from being bitten and eyes hooded. A masterpiece that Castiel adores. Unfortunately, Dean knows the rules by heart and is aware that he's not allowed to take more when he isn't specified to do so. 

"Color?" Castiel asks, turning Dean over onto his stomach. Dean knows to lift his hips so his face in pressed down into the mattress and his ass is up in the air. "Green, 'm sorry Daddy." Dean slurs and Castiel hums, rubbing his open palm on the globes before lifting his hand and bringing it down on Dean's ass.

_Smack!_

Dean jerks forward, a moan emitting from his lips. Castiel repeats his action fifteen more times on each cheek until Dean is sobbing into their sheets and his ass is the same colour as the flush that covers his body. Castiel smooths his hand over the cheeks, "I'm proud of you, honey, you did amazing." 

"T-thank y-y-you, daddy." Dean sniffs, toes curled and body tense. Castiel lowers Dean's hips and kisses up his lover's spine. Both of their cocks are red, angry, and leaking pre-cum on the sheets or in Castiel's case, smearing against Dean's thigh. Castiel turns Dean over once more, wiping away any lingering tears and taking note of the twist of discomfort that takes over Dean's face, he'll have to to put cream on his ass later. Dean's soul shines powerfully with grace that's ready to teeter over the edge and mix with Castiel's own. 

"Color?" Castiel asks again, leaning back on his heels and spreading Dean's thighs over his lap. Dean's balls jump with his cock and he keens, "'S green, Daddy." 

Castiel reaches to his nightstand and rummages for the half-empty bottle of lube before he squeezes it over his fingers and eases his middle finger into Dean's hole. Dean tenses, his hole clenching tightly around Castiel's finger. "Ooh," he sighs, relaxing into the sheets and rocking against the digit.

Castiel uses his other hand to brush over the fading bitemarks on Dean's inner thighs and preens happily, he slides out his middle finger only to massage it back in with another finger, crooking and spreading them. Dean hiccups and his hands tremble against the sheets. Castiel moves his hand away from Dean's thigh to his leaking cock and fists himself in time with the thrusts he does with his fingers. 

"Pleasepleaseplease," Dean begs, thighs shaking as Castiel works in a third finger. Dean's soul pulses with each brush of fingers against his prostate and Castiel pulls out his fingers gently so he can squeeze some lube onto his cock. The Angel pulls Dean down the bed so Castiel's cock can easily be eased down and slid into Dean's tight heat. Dean's thighs tighten and tears slide down the sides of his face, Castiel rocks his hips lazily and Dean lets out a choked grunt. 

"I-in my s-stomach, I c-can feel it- _oh fuck!"_ Dean's back arches when Castiel leans forward, folding Dean in half, and dragging his cock out before slamming back in repeatedly. Dean's hole is warm and tight and _suffocating._ Castiel's balls smack loudly against the meat of Dean's ass. The sound of grunts, high-pitched wails, and skin slapping sounds the room. Sweat drips down Castiel's back and he grunts, shoving his hips deeper inside of Dean and _grinding_ his cock against Dean's prostate. 

One of Castiel's hand curls around Dean's hip while the other grasps at the glowing handprint on Dean's left deltoid. Castiel leans down to press his sweaty forehead against Dean's. Grace escapes both of their open mouths, the pale blue life twirls together into a knot and Castiel seals their mouths together, allowing themselves to mix. 

Castiel can taste salt between their lips, a result of tears slipping down his face and he thrusts more erratically into Dean. His cock hardens and spasms inside of Dean who clenches insanely tight, almost expelling him, and arches into Castiel as he comes. Dean shouts into the room, his grace pulsing and brightening before two, dark green, almost mirroring black, wings emerge from behind Dean and dip off the edge of the bed, puffing with each spurt of cum that Dean releases. 

Castiel closes his eyes tightly, balls drawing up and wings ripping out of their confines as he releases inside of Dean.

"Je t'aime." he gasps, pushing harder and deeper inside of Dean. "Je t'aime, Je t'aime!" come overflows, coating Castiel's cock and dripping out of Dean's hole. Castiel's vision blurs and he breathes raggedly, adrenaline running high. 

"Dad-daddy?" Dean asks hoarsely, eyes hazy and slipping closed, peacefully unaware of the new development. 

"Yes, beloved?" Castiel brushes Dean's damp hair out of his face and noses his temple.

"Collar?" Dean asks shyly. Castiel kisses Dean's forehead before he snaps his fingers, too sated and tired to get up, for the collar to hang loosely on his finger. Castiel buckles it around Dean's throat and nuzzles it, smiling at Dean's laugh. He shifts them around into a more comfortable position, he makes sure Dean's wings are tucked carefully, and runs a hand up and down Dean's spine until their breathing evens out. 

Dean's soul hasn't dimmed in the slightest but his grace is leveled and calm and Castiel can feel that his is in the same state. His entire body hurts now that the adrenaline has dimmed down and there's a numbness all around his body buzzing inside of him like bees. Castiel gets out of bed to get the soothing cream from the washroom then gently massages on Dean's ass while the other lays on his stomach.

"Mm, Cas?" Dean moans into his pillow, easing out of his headspace much to Castiel's disappointment. They need to work on keeping Dean in subspace and coming down together so he doesn't drop. 

"You were amazing, the courting has completed." Castiel praises, kissing Dean's lower back. Dean's wings jump at the compliment and he makes a low noise of happiness. 

"Heavy," Dean mummers, wiggling his back at the added weight. "Book didn't say nothin' about how fuckin' heavy these things are." he complains and Castiel snorts. The book was given to them by Gabriel after he heard they were beginning their courting. Castiel thinks it's in the same category as What To Expect When You're Expecting, a book that they are going to have to get soon. 

"How do you feel?" Castiel wipes his hands on his naked thighs, too lazy to wash them, and lays down. Dean moves his face in the pillow and turns his head to look at Castiel. 

"Good. Full, Daddy." Dean slurs, slipping. Castiel nods, he expects Dean's mood to be more clearer tomorrow morning. 

"Still with me?" Dean hums in acknowledgement, head buzzing and body throbbing with every breath he takes. He feels Castiel rub his side lovingly. 

"We can start trying anytime you're ready." 

Dean's heart swells and wetness dampens his pillow. A house and kids.

Dean blinks at Castiel, the Angel's smile now lazy and droopy as he begins to fall asleep. Dean shuffles and wraps Castiel's naked torso with his wing. His body feels like it's sinking into the bed and his bladder tingles with the need to pee but Castiel is snoring lightly beside him and Dean can finally start planning for _kids._

Tranquility, Dean decides with a small, sleepy smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Blueprint for people who like visuals](https://pin.it/2b8TkqU)
> 
> I do apologize if anybody didn't want the time skip but I really wanted to put emphasis on how time can lead to change. It's something that I don't think I could've put into "fanfiction time" which would be a month of their courting but it's not the impact that I want. I really appreciate everyone reading this and leaving comments and kudos.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought in the comments! Kudos are always appreciated!


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